


Who We Are

by DandelionAdrian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Mob, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Moral Ambiguity, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2020-04-23 12:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19150834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionAdrian/pseuds/DandelionAdrian
Summary: The first time Tom met Harry was when he was illegally working part-time in a shady bar. He thought the man with too big green eyes who tried to flirt with him was annoyingly pretty but harmless. He was wrong.Harry spotted this beautiful waiter in the newly opened bar in his territory. Tall and handsome, with captivating maroon eyes, exactly his type. The man was working in one of the city’s shadiest places, so Harry assumed he had to be of legal age at least. He was fucking wrong.In which Harry Potter is the feared crime boss of London with too much power and many hidden secrets. Meanwhile, Tom Riddle is a straight A student with a troubled past, struggling to escape his abusive home and make it out of this glamorous city alive.Also, Tom was fifteen. Harry was so going to murder someone, possibly the fucker who dared hire a freaking minor to work in their bar.





	1. Prologue

_I would grant all your wishes_   
_If you promised me a thousand kisses_   
_I will never love another, like you_   
_So give me all your secrets_   
_Your fear and doubts, honey you don’t need them_   
_I will never find another, like you_

Tristan Prettyman - Who We Are

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re staring too hard, he’s gonna burst into flames with that kind of intensity.”

Ron’s teasing voice cut off the heated leering Harry was focusing on the waiter in front of them. The green eyed man threw a glare at the red head sitting beside him, then he smirked. “Is he new? I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen that beautiful face around here before.”

Ron furrowed his brows and took another look at the waiter, who had gotten all of Harry’s attention from the moment they walked into this bar. “Maybe,” he shrugged, “this place has permission to open in our territory, but technically it still belongs to the Malfoys. I didn’t want to waste time investigating their workers.”

Harry nodded, and turned his head to continue eyeing the waiter. Ron didn’t swing that way, but even he had to admit the man Harry was ogling at was beautiful indeed. Exactly his best mate’s taste; it also meant a new lover was about to grace Harry’s bed and then promptly kicked out of his sight right the next day. Ron only hoped this one wouldn’t turn out to be a whiny brat like Harry’s last lover; it had been a migraine trying to get that fucker off his back.

Finally, Harry snapped his fingers to call the waiter to their table, and Ron quietly heaved a long suffering sigh. Here it all began.

Up close, the man was even more stunning; Ron could clearly see the lust flare up inside Harry’s bright green eyes. _Uh oh..._

“Hi,” Harry started in his sweetest voice, “Are you new around here? I’m perfectly sure I’d remember such a pretty face like yours.”

The waiter only raised one of his immaculate eyebrow, and politely replied after a short silence, “I only started working here today, sir.”

_Huh?_ _His voice sounds so young_ , Ron silently took notice, but he didn’t have time to ponder more, because the other man continued, “You need anything, sir?”

“Yes, _you_.” Harry smoothly said.

“I’m sorry,” he gave a tight smile, “I don’t quite understand.”

Harry continued shamelessly, “I want _you._ ” And then with a confident air, he added, “I’m Harry, by the way. Harry Potter.”

But the waiter only creased his forehead slightly, revealing some of his hidden irritation. “I apologize, I’m not selling my body. You can ask for that kind of service from one of the performers on the dance floor. If you aren’t requiring anything else, I’ll take my leave now.”

And before Harry could reply, he had already turned his back and walked away. Ron couldn’t contain a snort at Harry’s jaw drop expression. After a long beat of silence, the green eyed man finally turned to his friend and asked in a disbelieving tone, “Did he really just turn me down?”

Ron grinned, “You think?”

“How could he?” Harry pouted; the man truly could act like a child sometimes.

“Maybe he didn’t know who you are,” the red head still couldn’t stop laughing at his friend’s embarrassing display, “Or maybe you’re not as irresistible as you think.”

Determination burned inside emerald eyes, “I have to have him.” Harry gritted his teeth, “Find out everything about him, Ronald.”

Ron abruptly turned serious when he heard the danger lurking in Harry’s voice. He straightened up his back and replied, “Loud and clear, boss.”

In the back of his mind, Ron felt sorry for the guy who had just rejected his boss. Nobody could run from Harry Potter. Because everything the London criminal boss wanted, he certainly _would_ have.


	2. Smoking Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter's title is taken from a song with the same name by Michelle Kash <3

It had been two days since Harry met the handsome waiter in one of Malfoy’s shady bars, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the other man. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten so obsessed over someone so beautiful. And the man was beautiful, with his wavy dark hair and intense dark eyes, his perfect face and pale skin, he had captured Harry’s attention right away.

But there was something else about him. Something Harry couldn’t quite put his fingers on yet, that made him different from the rest. Harry had a feeling it wouldn’t be just another quick fling, and that made his obsession this time too dangerous. If he was anyone else, he would already have his men eliminated this new found interest, before it got out of hand. But Harry wasn’t, he was James Potter’s son and the Blacks blood ran in his veins; playing with fire was what he did best.

Ronald Weasley, his best friend and right-hand man, stepped in his office just when he was about to snap, and Harry called for him to demand what he had asked for _two_ days ago.

“Sorry, it took longer than expected.” Ron immediately started with an apology, already sensing Harry’s bad mood from the other side of the door. “That waiter only works part-time so the bar owner doesn’t gather much information on him. I has to dig around for more juicy details, but...”

“What?” Harry asked when Ron stopped talking for too long.

The red head grinned; only he dared to do that anyway. If Ron was anyone else with this kind of disrespect toward the boss, he wouldn’t walk out of this room alive. “You won’t like what I’m about to tell you.”

“Just say it.” Harry glared.

“Okay,” Ron feigned a long-suffering sigh, “His name’s Tom Riddle, a model student with full scholarship at Hogwarts Academy for the Gifted and Talented Youth. Top of all of his classes and perfectly clean record. He has never gotten in any kind of trouble, but he also doesn’t have many friends or even an active social life. His mother died at birth, and father died along with his family six years later; I’m not sure if he was awared of his son’s existence. He used to live in an orphanage until he was found by an uncle on his mother side when he was five, and he’s currently living with that uncle and his grandfather. That’s almost all.”

“Almost?” Harry asked.

“There’s one more thing,” Ron said slowly, “The man you like, boss, is actually a boy. He only turned fifteen last month.”

Harry gasped, “ _Fift_ _e_ _en_?!!”

“Yes.”

“No fucking way! He looks much older than that!!” Harry nearly screamed in horror.

“That’s probably one of the reasons he can trick his way into working illegally at the bar,” Ron idly guessed. “Those fuckers don’t actually look at their part-time workers’ ID.”

Harry didn’t say anything else after that, and Ron asked when the silence had been long enough, “So...?”

“What?” His boss snapped.

“You need us to bring him back for you now, or you’re gonna seduce him slowly like all the others before?” The red head asked slowly, unsure.

Anger flared up in stunning green eyes, and Ron had to take a step back, Harry was _mad._ “I will not fuck a minor, willingly or not. My corrupted morals do have limits, Ronald. Don’t make the same mistake again,” he said calmly, but it chilled anyone being directed at to their core.

“Sorry, boss.” Ron urgently nodded. When Harry simply waved away his apology, he wisely changed the topic, “So what we’re gonna do now? Leave him alone?”

“Have him fired from the bar, that kind of place’s too dangerous for a boy.” Harry sighed ruefully, “Also, send my words to Lucius and remind him that I won’t allow the same disregard of my rules on _my territory_ again.”

“Will do, boss.”

“Now bring me a glass of my strongest whiskey,” Harry whined, back to his normal self, “I need to drink away my pathetic boner for that beautiful boy.”

Ron laughed.


	3. Everywhere Ghosts Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter's title is taken from a song with the same name by Erin McCarley.

Despite his initial intention to stay away from the object of his obsession, at least for another year until the boy came of age, and if Harry was still interested. But Fate had to hate him, because it only took two weeks and one coincidental glance at the boy in a coffee shop on his way to meet up with the Lestranges for Harry’s resolution to crumble into dust.

 _Damn_ , Harry cursed inside his head, sitting at the restaurant across from the coffee shop Tom was working at and silently watching ( _not stalking, Ron!_ ) him. After accidentally seeing the boy again, Harry found that he really couldn’t stay away, and had been spending all of his morning staring at Tom from across the street for two straight months.

Ron had called it obsessive once, then whining about the unnecessary raising cost of eating out everyday with Harry, until he excused the red head from following him around in the morning. Ron had pretended to object _loudly_ about that, but right the next day he was nowhere to be seen. The fucker...

However, for the first time in two months, Tom didn’t show up at the coffee shop. Harry wouldn’t admit he had felt an irrational worry gnawing up his inside but had forcefully ignored it. Tom could be busy with school or something, he shouldn’t think too much. Harry had already gotten attached enough; he didn’t want to get himself in deeper.

Except Tom didn’t show up for the next three days. And on the fourth day, Harry almost had called Ron to send a team out, but luckily the boy had appeared. Harry didn’t stop to think, he just walked straight into the coffee shop before his brain had enough time to question what he was doing.

The moment he realized his mistake, it was already too late to back out, so he had to quickly sit down at the nearest table and silently watched Tom. He pointed blindly at the menu when a girl came to take his order. Tom had looked fine from across the street, the boy didn’t look like he had fallen ill or something to take three days off. But when Tom changed into his working clothes and came closer to take an order from the table right next to Harry’s, he finally noticed how pale Tom really was. Like, _sickly_ pale.

Then the girl took Harry’s order, walked out, and accidentally collided into Tom when the boy turned around, the hot coffee in her hand splattering all over him. Tom hissed painfully, clutching his right arm. Harry didn’t realize when he jumped out of his seat, but the next moment he had grasped Tom’s arm and pulled up his sleeve. What he saw made his blood turn cold.

The thin arm in his hand was littered with multiple scars, deep red and purple angry welts, and there seemed to be more hidden under the upper arm’s shirt-sleeve. Harry’s face paled.

“Who did this?” He whispered, still in shock.

“No one,” Tom snatched his arm back with that answer, pulling his sleeve down and was about to scold the man who dared to touch him.

Then he saw his face and what he wanted to say died in his throat. Tom had met this man before, but he had only thought of him as an annoyingly pretty but harmless guy, just trying to flirt with him. There was nothing remotely harmless in the furious man standing before him now.

“You’re...” Tom started again, “the one at the bar?”

The green eyed man blinked once, then he smiled, pleased. “You remember me.”

Tom stayed silent; he didn’t know how to reply. He just had a remarkable memory, okay? It wasn’t like he especially remembered this man or anything.

But then the relaxed stance disappeared and Harry turned deadly serious again when he asked, “Who hurt you?”

The green eyed man was taller than Tom by about three inches at most, but he looked much more towering in that moment; his entire being screamed of power. Not that Tom was scared. He was about to walk away without answering, but it seemed the man realized Tom’s intention as he snapped his fingers and said in a cold voice, “Get him in the car.”

Before Tom could ask who Harry was talking to, two guys had appeared from behind his back and quickly grasped his arms.

“Don’t struggle, _please_.” Harry’s voice was soft even if his face remained cold. “You’re hurting, I only want to help.”

Everyone in the coffee shop held their breath at the scene happening before them. No one dared doing anything to stop those intimidating men. Tom didn’t fight back, because he realized he couldn’t and didn’t want to hurt himself more. Not because of the fire in those bewitching green eyes. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

Tom was gently pushed into the back seat of a flashy black car, and he said nothing on the whole long ride, completely ignoring the intense gaze from the handsome man sitting beside him.

“I don’t have money,” Tom finally said when they pulled up to a hospital.

“Don’t worry about that.” Harry replied shortly.

And Tom didn’t. God knew the next time he could have the chance for a free hospital check-up. He could treat any wounds himself, but it would never compare to professional treatment.

When the doctor finished bandaging up his arms, he was given some kind of antibiotic cream for his burns and lots of pain killers for his... _other wounds_. Tom refused to answer any of the doctor’s questions until she had to give up.

“Thank you,” Tom said to Harry when the man dropped him off in front of Hogwarts’ gate for his afternoon class.

“You should take some days off from working,” Harry said softly. “Until all your wounds are healed at least.”

“I really couldn’t.”

Those expressive eyes bored deep into Tom’s dark ones for a long moment, and he steadily held his gaze. Finally, Harry sighed, “Fine.”

Tom nodded and turned to walk into his school. But when he came near the gate, Harry’s voice stopped him again, “You really won’t tell me who hurt you?”

Tom turned back, and Harry looked so sad right then something inexplicable squeezed in his chest, but he could only shake his head. He didn’t know why this handsome man cared so much about him, they were practically strangers.

“Then I’ll be seeing you again. _Soon_.” Harry said it like a promise. And Tom blinked, surprised by the intensity in those beautiful eyes, _again_.

“Okay.” He breathed, maroon eyes gleaming under the sun and almost turning red for a split moment.

Harry closed the door after Tom had disappeared inside Hogwarts. He dialed Ron’s number while the car drove away, and his right-hand man picked up on the first ring.

“I don’t want a briefing like last time,” Harry said in his most authoritative voice. “I want to know everything, and I mean _every single thing_ , you can find out about Tom Riddle. Illegal means if necessary, I don’t care. I want them all. _Tomorrow_. You understand?”

He could hear the rustling from the phone’s other side as Ron rushed to work on his order, “Crystal clear, boss.”


	4. Play With Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter's title is taken from a song with the same name by Sam Tinnesz.

Harry Potter was born into the criminal life. He literally grew up knowing how to take a life without batting an eyelash before he knew how to count up to ten or tidy up his room. Actually, even now he still didn’t have to tidy up his room, though he was excellent at math. But the point was, Harry was no stranger to violence. Even though his family didn’t do human trafficking and animal smuggling, still he had witnessed the extent of human cruelty. And though he didn’t get used to it, he wasn’t as affected as much as the first few times.

But Tom... Seeing the proofs of abuse on the boy’s thin body had Harry’s blood boiled up in rage. It had been a week since the day Harry had forcefully dragged Tom into the nearest hospital to get his wounds looked at. He still remembered all the scars lining up the boy’s back and arms, old fading bruises and new bloody cuts from being beaten up with something sharp, probably a belt. And by the look of it, Tom had been subjected to this kind of abuse for a long time.

It had taken all of Harry’s willpower to hold himself back and not demand answers from Tom. He know the boy wouldn’t tell, no abused victim would easily tell the name of their abuser to a stranger, and stranger was what he was to Tom. It wasn’t easy letting the boy go after that, but Harry needed more time to figure everything out before he did something more drastic.

 

* * *

 

Ron was exceptionally good at being Harry’s right-hand man, which means the red head knew exactly when he was required to be serious in his job. So _precisely_ twenty-four hours after receiving Harry’s order, he had delivered every single thing he could find about Tom Riddle, from his blood type and allergies, to all of the important records from the moment he was born, into his boss’ hands. Ron also sent one of their men out to constantly keep an eye on Tom, and immediately report back if anything suspicious happened around the boy. He had a feeling the dark eyed boy wouldn’t be just another fling for his impulsive boss, and he wouldn’t allow any mishaps to happen to the boy. At least not before Harry figured out what he wanted to do with him.

From what Ron had gathered, Harry could easily conclude the abuse had to come from behind closed doors, another way of saying domestic violence. Tom really didn’t get into fights at school, he didn’t even have much interaction with his peers. In fact, the boy spent all of his time in either his classes or the library; and when he wasn’t in school, he worked. It appalled Harry the number of jobs Tom had done since he was a little child; the boy seemed to be willing to do anything in his free time for money.

Since he was only twelve, Tom had begun working at every shadiest corner of London, the only kind of place that would illegally hire a minor working night shifts. However, the boy had never worked at any of those places for longer than three months, and he would drop working through the night whenever the final exam for each semester was coming up at school. Still, with that amount of energy and time spent, it was a wonder how the boy could maintain his excellent scores at Hogwarts. He had to be exceptionally smart, a prodigy indeed.

Currently, Tom got up at the break of dawn for his newspaper delivery job then spent the whole morning working at the coffee shop, before coming to Hogwarts for his classes during the rest of the day. Later, he would hole up in the either the school library or another library around the city until its closing time before making his way back home.

All of that meant the only place Tom could get his scars was his _home_. The fact that his family neglected the boy enough for him to stay out so late at night, some nights not even coming home, had already spoken volumes about them. Ron also found out the boy’s grandfather was an alcoholic, and his uncle had a bad gambling addiction. The Weasley twins had already broken into the city’s systems, and were trying to get a copy of the family’s financial reports to figure out how they had paid off his gambling debts.

While they waited to find out more, Harry tried to decide what he wanted to do with Tom. He was so gone on the boy, that was sure; but where to go from there was another story he had yet to decide. Ron suddenly burst into the room and cut off Harry’s wandering thoughts.

“Boss, Dean has broken into the boy’s house.” The red head said urgently.

“What happened?” Harry only asked, knowing his men wouldn’t have done that without a good reason.

“He reported the boy’s uncle coming back late reeking of alcohol, and when he heard the sound of hitting inside, he had to do something. Your boy might get hurt.” Ron explained, “And he is, actually.”

Harry sat up slowly from where he was lounging behind his desk, emerald eyes glinting dangerously when he said, “I trust Dean has the situation under control?” Ron nodded. “Then I’ll hear the full report from him. Get the car ready, we’ll leave _now_.”


	5. Fire On Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence and minor character deaths in this chapter.
> 
> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Sam Smith.

When they got to the boy’s house, it was pretty dark outside. It was well past midnight, the best time to get your dirty business done.

The boy lived in a run down house; calling it a house was overrated, for the dwelling looked like it would collapse at any moment if someone gave it a kick hard enough. The inside didn’t look any better. Harry found Dean sitting on a chair inside the small kitchen, watching something on his phone in one hand with a bored look, while the other holding the gun rested nonchalantly on the table.

Lying on the floor were two unconscious men, Harry didn’t have to ask to know who they were, not that he had paid them more than one single glance. His attention was locked on the boy sitting on the only chair left in the room.

Tom looked alright, or at least _mostly_ alright from the outlook. He sat with a rigid back, looking like a wild animal ready to fight in the most controlled facade Harry had ever seen. The boy’s gaze had been focused solely on the gun in Dean’s hand, but immediately switched to Harry the moment the green eyed man stepped into the room. His sharp intuition told him that man was the most dangerous person in the room, and dark eyes followed every step Harry took to come closer to him.

He didn’t flinch when Harry’s hand gently grasped his chin, lifting his face up to take a closer look at the bruise forming on his pale left cheek. The cold fury burning so bright in those emerald eyes took Tom’s breath away, and his heart halted for a beat when the man leaned closer to lay a feathery kiss on his throbbing cheek.

“Are you hurt elsewhere?” Harry asked gently after he pulled away.

Tom stared at the impossible man in front of him, “You are not going to kiss every bruise on my body,” he said instead of answering.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the request; he wasn’t planning to but that was a tempting idea. Maybe not now.

“I won’t, promise.” He said in his most placating voice, earning a hard mistrustful glare from the boy. _Cute_.

Tom took a deep breath and let it out in a huff before slowly rolling up his sleeves, and Harry was briefly reminded that he had never seen the boy wearing anything but long sleeve shirts. Then he saw the new welts lining up Tom’s arms, not as many as the last time, probably because Dean had intervened in time, but looking just as painful. Some strikes had cut deep enough to draw blood, though they mostly had dried up. His fingertips gently touched one of the deepest cuts and Tom hissed softly.

Harry withdrew his hands to take both of the boy’s and leaned down so he could look straight into Tom’s dark eyes when he asked, “Will you tell me who hurt you now?” His voice was soft but firm. He didn’t need Tom’s answer to know who dared hurt what belonged to him, but he still wanted to hear it from the boy.

Tom’s unique maroon eyes held Harry’s gaze for a long silent moment, before he answered in a detached tone, “My uncle.”

Harry squeezed the hands he was holding, “How long?”

His short question didn’t seem to deter the boy from understanding exactly what Harry wanted to know.

“Since the day they took me from the orphanage.” Tom wasn’t surprised when Harry didn’t seemed to have questions about the orphanage part, the green eyed man probably knew much more about his life so he continued, “Whenever he lost a big gamble, he would get drunk and take out his anger on me, with a belt or his fists. I prefer his fists, they wouldn’t leave scars.”

Harry made an angry growl at that and Tom stopped talking for a moment to look at the man. When Harry managed to get his temper back under control, the boy continued talking in a softer voice, “He didn’t hit me often, really. It just seems he lost a lot lately.”

“Are you seriously trying to defend _him_ now?” Harry cut in with barely contained anger.

The boy only shot him an annoyed look, “No.” He said curtly, “I’m only saying the truth, to strike off that misconception in your head about me getting bloody beat up everyday.”

Harry couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice, “God, the way you talk.” He shook his head fondly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Tom retorted arrogantly, but it looked infuriatingly adorable on him. Harry was so gone on this boy.

“And your grandfather?” he questioned Tom again.

It actually took a moment for the boy to think before he answered, “The old man doesn’t like using violence as much as his son, he prefers using words to insult and humiliate me.” Then in a softer voice, almost like a whisper, and Harry had to strain his ears to catch what the boy mumbled under his breath, “I hate it more.”

He squeezed Tom’s hands again and said tenderly, “Thank you.”

Then Harry straightened up and turned around, missing the way Tom’s eyes widened at his words. Dean had already stood up to give Harry his chair, and he gracefully sat down before he asked.

“Who’s the uncle?” They both looked haggard and ugly, he really couldn’t see which one was younger.

Dean pointed to the man slumped nearer to the refrigerator and Harry nodded.

“Break both of that man’s hands,” he said calmly.

His men immediately did, and Tom’s uncle shrieked loudly when Oliver stomped down on his hand hard enough they could hear the bones breaking. Ron quickly had the old man in a tight grip when he was roused up from his son’s anguished cry, and easily held him back when he tried to reach for his son. Oliver shattered the other hand using the same brutal method. Dean held him down when the man tried to squirm away, blubbering incoherently.

“Who are you?” The old man directed that question at Harry after he took a look around the room. Smart, really.

Harry gave him a patronizing smile, “I’m Harry. _Harry Potter_.”

Blood quickly drained off his face. Oh the man knew who he was, _interesting_. Though his son didn’t seem like he recognized Harry and still continued with his pathetic sobbing.

“You’re the city’s crime boss,” the old man murmured, obvious fear on his wrinkled face. Harry didn’t reply, which was a clear confirmation, and the man was shaking when he asked, “What did he do?”

He assumed his son had done some foolish thing that crossed the criminal boss. He wasn’t completely wrong.

“Your son hurt what belongs to me,” Harry said coldly, “Not only him. Both of you.”

At first, the man looked confused, then realization seemed to dawn on him, “You mean the brat?” He was looking at the boy sitting quietly behind Harry with a blank face. “You want that good for nothing freak? Well, you can have him, we never wanted that ungrateful bastard anyway. Just let us go.”

The blatant hate for his grandson clearly outweighed his fear for the criminal boss. _Stupid move_. Harry narrowed his eyes, and when he spoke again, he was furious. “It seems to escape your notice that I said the boy is mine. And you both hurt what belongs to me. I didn't come here to ask for permission, I come to deliver punishment.” Harry snarled, “Cut out his tongue.”

The man thrashed wildly in Ron’s grip when Oliver came near with a sharp blade in his hand, then he started to beg for mercy but couldn’t get many words out before Oliver ripped off his tongue with a swift cut. The man howled, blood gushing out of his mouth to fall on the dirty floor. His son wailed hysterically under Dean’s unyielding hold.

Harry let them cry until they both quieted down to pitiful whimpers. Then he took out his gun and they both started to thrash wildly again. But before Harry did anything, Tom’s smooth voice had stopped him, “Don’t kill them.”

Harry was a bit disappointed with the boy’s request. He hoped the one he had chosen wouldn’t be a soft-hearted soul. “Why?” Harry asked without looking back.

But the boy’s answer surprised him, “I don’t want to go back to an orphanage.”

His voice sounded so small when he said that and Harry had to turn back. Tom had a lost and almost pleading look on his face, and Harry briefly wondered what had happened to have the boy so repulsed of the idea of an orphanage that he would willingly endure living in an abusive house for a decade. Not that Harry would allow him going anywhere.

“Oh darling, haven’t you heard what I just said?” He practically purred. “You belong to me, your place’s staying by my side.”

Tom bit his bottom lip and regarded Harry with contemplative eyes, before the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, “Okay.”

In an instant, Harry had fired two bullets straight through the heads of Tom’s last remaining blood relatives. When he looked back at Tom, the boy had a vindictive satisfied glint in his dark eyes; and the moment those mesmerising orbs raised up from the two dead bodies to meet his gaze, for a swift second, the reflecting light from the street lamps outside turned them almost crimson.

Tom smiled.

It was _breathtaking_.


	6. You Belong To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Cat Pierce.

After leaving two dead bodies for his men to deal with, Harry had asked Tom, _nicely_ , to come with him. The boy didn’t hesitate as he followed Harry into his car, though he still kept a reasonable distance with the other man along the ride back to his place.

The boy made no sound during the whole time Neville, Harry’s private doctor, was checking and tending to his wounds. Harry could bring Tom to a hospital, but he hadn’t been able to gauge the boy’s true feelings under his beautiful blank face. He was calm during his grandpa and uncle’s torture, and he wasn’t fazed even after Harry abruptly shot his relatives to death right in front of him.

Harry was worried Tom could have a delayed panic attack, and he really didn’t want to accidentally hurt the boy when trying to keep him from causing a scene in public.

Neville gave his boss a nod on his way out when he was done. Harry watched the quiet boy standing near him for a moment, before one of his hands reached out to touch Tom’s face, fingertips lightly caressing the smooth skin on his good cheek. Tom didn’t stop him, but neither did he show any reaction.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked gently.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Harry hummed, his hand still stroking the boy’s cheek.

“You really like my face, don’t you?” Tom asked blandly.

Harry smiled, “Darling, you have the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, and I won’t deny it’s what caught my gaze at first.” He leaned down to whisper into the boy’s ear, “But that definitely isn’t what’s holding my attention now.”

Something simmered deep inside Tom’s dark eyes when he asked, “Then what is it?”

“That,” Harry laid a kiss on the boy’s forehead before leaning back, “is what I’m still trying to figure out.”

Tom’s hand jerked up to touch where the man’s lips had brushed against his skin, a faint blush crept up on his cheeks.

“Stop doing that.” He said, indignantly.

“Stop doing what?” Harry teased, and chuckled when Tom glared at him. “Anyway, you should get some sleep. Come with me.”

Tom suddenly tensed up again, but still followed Harry without protest. He led the boy to one of the guest rooms closest to his own, “This will be your room from now on. It has been prepared with all the necessities, but if you need anything, you can come to my room.” Harry pointed down the hall, “The last one on the left is mine.”

“I won’t be sleeping with you?” Tom blurted out, surprising Harry by the sudden question.

“No.” He tilted his head slightly, “Why? Do you want to?”

“Of course not.” Tom immediately denied; relief washed over his body and he seemed more relaxed than just moments ago.

_Ah…_ Finally, Harry caught on.

“Oh darling,” he reassured the poor boy, “I did say you belong to me, but it doesn’t mean I’ll force myself on you.”

“Then what do you want?” Tom asked cautiously.

“I want _you_.” Tom frowned but Harry continued before he could voice his confusion, “Not like that. _Not yet_. For now, I only want you to be safe.”

“Is that all?”

“There’re also two rules I warn you not to break, you won’t like the consequences.” Harry said conversationally, leaning down to gently touch Tom’s neck, “You’re mine, do not forget that. And please, don’t try to escape.”

Only this man could make the word _please_ sounded like an order, and the gentlest caress so domineering. Tom found he didn’t really mind Harry’s possessive touches that much, and refused to think about the implication.

“Where else could I go?” He breathed, looking straight into those bright green eyes.

Harry looked so _pleased_ , grinning. “That’s true. Where else could you go?”

Then the man pulled himself back up, whispered a goodnight and turned to walk to his own room.

Tom let out a breath after the confusing man had disappeared into his room. This night was exhausting, the dark hair boy thought as he stepped into his new room, _his new life_ , closing the door softly behind him.


	7. Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Halsey.

It had been a few days since Harry had practically kidnapped Tom. And he had yet to venture out of the man’s mansion.

Yes, a mansion. Tom would not call this huge place by any other names. It took him a whole day to meander through the entire place; and in the days after, he had spent most of his time burying himself in the enormous library. He hadn’t thought there was any library bigger than Hogwarts’s, apparently he was wrong.

Tom had met other people at the crime boss’ mansion, but most of them didn’t venture near the center part of the big house where Harry and Tom’s rooms were located. They also didn’t approach or even acknowledge his presence. Except for some polite nods from the three men he had met on the night Harry had Marvolo and Morfin tortured for hurting him and the doctor who treated his wounds later, Tom had talked only to a woman with bushy brown hair, who had introduced herself as Hermione Granger. She had found him two days after he became an orphan again, _thank_ _s_ _to Harry_ , with some papers that needed his signature to validate Harry Potter as Tom’s new legal guardian.

Tom didn’t ask questions, he just signed where he was _kindly_ requested. According to the news, Marvolo in a fit of anger and his drunken son had gotten into a fight that ended up accidentally killing both of them. Tom was amazed at the amount of bloodshed certain people, with enough power and connection, could cause then easily get away with such bullshit cover-up lies.

Although Harry became his guardian and said he wouldn’t force himself on Tom, the other man was still dotting on him without shame. Except for the time when he was buried between books, Harry seemed to have literally attached himself to Tom.

It wasn’t like Tom hadn’t gotten any attention for his looks before, but no one had treated him like Harry. The green eyed man looked at Tom liked he was something _special_. All the others before had always wanted something, and when they finally had it, they would throw Tom away like he was nothing but garbage. A tool. A _toy_.

With Harry, Tom was something to _keep_ ; and that only made the green eyed man much more dangerous than all the other monsters in his life. Harry’s tenderness and soft kisses were so foreign to him. No one had ever touched Tom without the intention of taking something or causing him pain, and he didn’t know how to deal with that.

 

\-- -- --

 

Tom was having breakfast with Harry and the red head who seemed to always follow Harry around. If Tom wasn’t living under the same roof with the man, he might have assumed Ron didn’t even leave his boss’s side in his sleep.

“Tomorrow, I want to go back to school.” Tom said firmly after they finished with their meals and Harry was sipping his hot cup of morning tea.

Harry nodded, “Okay.”

Tom was silent for a moment.

“Okay?” He repeated.

Harry looked at him with concern, “Actually, I hope you take more days off until all of your wounds have healed.” He sighed, “But if you want to go back to school tomorrow, I won’t stop you.”

Harry frowned when the boy seemed to sag with relief at his words.

“Darling,” he said slowly, “I’m not holding you captive in my home, you do know that, right?”

Tom scowled at the crime boss and replied in a clipped tone, “I know that now.”

Ron snorted, completely unaffected by the burning glare from his boss. Harry took a deep breath, then turned to fully look at the boy sitting across from him. “Tom, I said you’re mine, yes. But I’m not going to stop your education, nor lock you up in my home for the rest of your life.”

“Oh my god, Harry! Just. Stop. Let me help clear things up for the poor boy.” The red head snickered, “Basically, my boss means you’re not allowed to fuck or get fucked by anyone but _him_ ; and you’re free to do whatever else you want.” He said this bluntly, then yelped when Harry gave his shin a hard kick under the table.

“Shut up!” Harry hissed at Ron.

“I understand.” Tom said blandly, unimpressed with the two grownups’ antics.

“But Tom,” the green eyed man turned serious, though his tone was still soft and easy, “I do hope you’ll quit your part-time jobs. I’m your guardian, anything you need I can provide. You shouldn’t be working so much at your age.”

“Sounds like sugar daddy talks to me.” Ron muttered. Harry snapped his head around and narrowed his eyes at his best friend. The red head immediately made a zipping motion at his mouth and raised his hands up.

“Why?” Tom couldn’t help but ask; this man was so confusing.

Harry turned back to the boy, “Because you’re still growing,” he said earnestly, “straining yourself as hard as you do will push your body to its breaking point soon. I’m worried for your health. Can you quit? _Please_?”

And that right there, was what make Tom so wary of this man. _Harry cared_. So much. It was overwhelming and unfamiliar and he wasn’t used to have someone care for him at all. Harry’s tenderness was his greatest disarming trait, and Tom was completely at his mercy. He didn’t like all the feelings Harry had provoked in him. He didn’t want to get used to it.

This man was a criminal boss, why couldn’t he act as such?

“Fine.” He relented in the end.

“Thank you.” Harry smiled brightly, and Tom’s heart fluttered with how stunning the other man looked in that moment.

He had always believed he would not fall for anyone, ever. He had never liked feeling out of control. But Harry was so dangerous; and for the first time in his life, Tom didn’t think he would triumph over his own traitorous heart.

Not this time.


	8. Salvatore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick warning, this chapter isn't Draco-friendly, and as the story progresses it'll only get worse, so any Draco fans can click back now.
> 
> The title's taken from a song with the same name by my true queen Lana Del Rey <3

Harry’s little darling had moved into their lives for over three months, and his best friend still didn’t appear like he would lose interest in the boy anytime soon. Which meant he most likely wouldn’t ever.

Ron didn’t have any problem with that.

In fact, he quite preferred Tom over Harry’s last love interest. Or _fuck_ interest, whatever. That bitch had caused a mess for Ron to clean up, and the worst part was he was pretty sure the Malfoy heir hadn’t actually given up yet.

He had been adamant in warning Harry not to get involved with the spoiled brat. Pretty, arrogant _Daddy’s_ boys, with too much power and money for their own good, could never take getting dumped easily. They were used to always having what they wanted with a snap of their fingers; and Malfoy was the worst kind of bitch that Ron had ever had the misfortune of dealing with.

Harry was lucky Ron loved him enough to deal with the fallout of his epic _break-up_ for him. But he would very much like to avoid another similar disaster, so Tommy boy was great.

That boy was so smart, his records at school made even ‘Mione, past Hogwarts honour student herself, envious. He was also nice and very polite to a fault. It didn’t seem like he would cause troubles for Ron’s job, which was keeping his boss safe and happy. But that was from the outer looks, and Ron knew better than to assume Tom Riddle was that simple. He had personally looked into his life, after all.

There were even more unsettling things about Tom that Ron had seen with his own eyes. Such as the way he could always keep a perfectly composed facade around Harry. Hell, the boy didn’t even jump when his boss suddenly shot his two remaining blood relatives to death right in front of his eyes. Ron was impressed. Then he took it in stride no matter how possessive or overwhelming Harry acted toward him. That wasn’t normal for a fifteen-year-old boy, not in the least.

Something wasn’t right with that boy, and Ron had yet to figure it out. The most depressing part, though, was that Harry had to be aware of it. His boss had perceptive eyes with observation skills too sharp to not notice anything amiss.

But Harry didn’t care. Typically. Just like his father. Or at least Ron thought so from what he had heard about James Potter. Dangerous but beautiful things always draw the men in that family in like moths to a flame.

The only consolation was Ron had personally dug up Tom’s past, so he was sure there wasn’t anything fishy going on in the shadows. The boy couldn’t bring harm to his boss, not physically anyway.

He couldn’t say the same about Harry’s heart.

Especially when Harry hadn’t brought anyone to his bed ever since he saw Tom in the bar, and that was over six months going celibate for the man who used to change lovers every week. Because despite how touchy-feely Harry got around Tom, the red head knew his boss hadn’t fucked the boy yet. And he wouldn’t, not before Tom was willing and of age.

Harry was serious this time. No matter how dangerous or destructive it could turn out. His best friend was head over heels for a beautiful boy, who even Harry Potter couldn’t easily read what was hidden behind those alluring dark eyes.

He just hoped that unlike Harry’s parents, their son’s love story wouldn’t come crashing down in tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update, sorry, I'm so busy with my life lately QAQ


	9. Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Tedy <3

It was finally summer, and Tom was free from school. He had taken up an assistant job in the city library, with Harry’s permission of course. The other man was overprotective sometimes, but he would often relent when Tom really wanted to do something, and he didn’t want to spend the whole summer cooped up inside Harry’s mansion with nothing to do. Even though he had to admit living with Harry was the best condition he had ever lived in, and no one could say Tom wasn’t the most sensible boy with how quickly he settled into the luxurious life he had somehow fallen into.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, was a volatile factor that Tom still tried to get used to; though the man had slowly wormed his way into his life, despite how hard he had tried to prevent that.

Tom knew he was greedy and envious, and he also learned they were his ultimate faults. In the first few years when he just came to live with his grandfather and uncle, they had so enjoyed exploiting his weaknesses. It helped making his life miserable too easy for them. That was when Tom had trained himself to always hide his emotions, to never let anyone knew what he truly wanted.

But Harry was so charmingly seductive, and when one had such a dangerous man’s complete attention, it was hard not to get addicted to the thrill of power it offered. Tom was steadily tempted, no matter how hard he tried to resist.

“You’re quite a handsome boy.” The sudden words jostled Tom out of his wandering thoughts, and he turned to see the tailor standing by the door.

“Thank you.” He said, polite as ever.

A few days ago, Harry had asked Tom, with a pleading look on his face, to attend a gathering of the upper social class with him. The man was invited to several parties every month, but he had avoided attending as many as possible.

_It’s the Lestrange’s summer banquet. My mom would absolutely send someone over, I can’t escape it,_ Harry had whined. Not that it helped Tom understand the situation better, but he had agreed nonetheless.

Today was the day; Harry just went out to settle some conflicts that needed his immediate attention and would be back soon, when the tailor came with Tom’s customized suits. He didn’t remember ever telling Harry his measurements, he also didn’t want to ponder on how the other man had gotten them.

His new suit fitted perfectly on the first try. _Amazing_.

“Ah, Cedric, you come early.” Harry greeted from somewhere behind the tailor, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

Tom looked up at the sound to find the man standing stock still beside Ron. Harry was looking at him, his body tensed and eyes burning bright with so much _want_.

Tom knew he was very good looking, he had been aware of this fact since a very young age, which only called up bad memories. But the point was, Tom knew he was attractive and even though he didn’t particularly like his face, he wasn’t above using it to get what he wanted, and had been doing exactly that for years. Yet this was the first time Tom actually felt grateful for his looks; they had helped him capture the attention of the most dangerous man in this city after all.

Tom’s new attire was a classic three piece black suit, with a matching dark red tie that brought out the unique maroon shade of his eyes. He had looked at the mirror and almost didn’t recognize himself, how those sharp cuts of the suit highlighted all the finer edges of his beautiful features and made him look devastatingly irresistible.

Harry stalked closer, the intense heat in his eyes making the air around them suddenly too hard to breathe. Tom firmly held the other man’s gaze, not backing down in the slightest. Harry’s hands cupped Tom’s cheeks, and gently lifted his face up as he slowly leaned down, until their lips were close enough to meet, but not quite touching yet.

His palms were rough and warm. Tom felt a scalding heat radiating from them that was rapidly burning down every fortress around his soul, laying him bare to the powerful attack of Harry's raw and fierce emotions.

“I really,” the man’s usual soft voice dropped dangerously, and it sent an unexpected shiver down Tom’s spine, “really want to kiss you now.” His warm breath brushed over Tom’s dry lips, deep green eyes filled with desires darkened like two bottomless pits calling out to his weakening heart.

Tom suppressed a shudder, closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, quickly building up his mental defenses. When his eyes opened again, there was a teasing glint shining inside them as Tom looked straight into Harry’s dark green eyes and whispered, “And what if I don’t want your kiss?”

There were two collective sharp intake of breaths from somewhere around them, but Tom only focused on the man standing in front of him. Harry had kissed him many times before and never asked for permission, but he hadn’t touched Tom’s lips, not yet. And he knew Harry wasn’t really asking for his consent just then, it was more of a declaration from the man. Still, he didn’t know what had gotten into him, because suddenly he just wanted to test this man’s limits.

Harry only narrowed his eyes, regarding Tom with an unreadable expression. Then the corner of his lips pulled up slightly before he nodded, “As you wish.”

He bent down to press his lips to the boy’s neck, and Tom couldn’t suppress a shudder this time, his neck was very sensitive. Harry kept his face buried in the crook of Tom’s neck for a while, rubbing his nose against the smooth skin and breathing in the boy’s lovely clean smell.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, _darling_.” Harry whispered in Tom’s blushing ears before pulling away and straightening up.

Tom shot the older man a dirty look, “I sure hope not, it would be a terrible shame for the London crime boss to die that way.”

Harry laughed, and Tom had never felt more powerful and _vulnerable_ than at that exact moment. This man was a terrible drug, and Tom couldn’t stop falling into his tempting trap.

He was so fucked.

“I’m gonna go change now. See you later, Cedric.” The last part was said to the tailor with a quick nod, before Harry walked away, heading to his own room.

“Well,” Ron muttered, “What a weird intense foreplay.” He commented crudely, snickering. “Great job with the boy’s suit by the way. But it’s you, so no surprise there.”

“Thank you,” Cedric said distractedly, but Ron didn’t seem to notice as he also walked out of Tom’s room to follow his boss.

Tom only had to wait for about a minute before the only man left in the room with him spoke again.

“So,” Cedric started, “I guess those rumors are true after all.”

Tom arched an eyebrow, “What rumors?”

The other man’s smile was bitter, “That Harry’s newest flame may be his last.”

“What are you saying?”

Cedric only shook his head, brown eyes watching Tom with barely concealed jealousy, “Just be careful with Harry, okay?”

Tom was a bit annoyed with how the man simply brushed off his question and replied curtly, “He won’t hurt me.”

He didn’t actually know that, but somehow he still believed it.

“You get me wrong,” Cedric gave a humorless laugh, then his tone suddenly turned threatening, “let me rephrase that. Don’t ever hurt Harry, understand?”

Tom furrowed his brows, he really couldn’t follow this man.

“What?” he said, incredulous.

“You don’t see it yet, but you will soon.” The man had a heartbroken look on his face and his voice wavered a little but he still continued, “Harry chose you, so _please_ take care of him.”

_For me._

With that, Cedric turned and briskly walked away, leaving Tom behind, confused and completely lost.


	10. On Our Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Konoba <3

Harry Potter, despite being one of the most influential men in the city, rarely showed his face at any social gatherings. It was one of the contributing factors to the rumor that Harry was much easier to make a deal with in the bedroom. _Hella wrong_ , Ron would tell anyone who dared to ask, that in fact sleeping with his best friend was the fastest way to fall out of his good grace. Except for Cedric Diggory, no one had ever kept Harry’s attention for longer than a week, and even Cedric had been an exception.

With Harry, sex was just that, _sex_. His boss liked beautiful people, and he loved to have them in his bed, but he never got attached to anyone. Ron’s best friend could be cold and downright heartless in protecting his own heart. He was even cautious when it came to friendship. And if it wasn’t for the right timing and how young he had been when he first met Ron, the red head wasn’t sure Harry would have allowed him a chance to get as close to him as he was now.

He was glad he had met Harry at the right time, because for Ron, his boss was more than just a close friend, he was family. And because of how long and how well Ron knew him, he also understood why his best friend was the way he was now. But that didn’t mean it was easy, seeing the way Harry closed off his heart and hid away his true self under a ruthless facade.

So Ron was happy when Harry found his little darling. Even though he still couldn’t quite read Tom, and he didn’t get what Harry saw in him, he liked the way Harry let himself relax around the boy. Diggory had to see it too, with how heartbroken the man had looked after witnessing the interaction between Harry and his boy. Poor man had been hung up over Harry for years, and the saddest part was Diggory couldn’t even accept that the Harry he had once known was long gone.

Tom Riddle could make Harry Potter show his true self without even trying, but that boy couldn’t begin to understand how remarkable of a feat that was.

And Ron wanted to do something to fix that.

\-- -- --

When they got to one of the biggest grand hotels of the Lestrange family, the party had been going for a while. But no one would dare to complain about them being late; the fact that Harry had appeared was more than flattering enough for everyone in attendance.

Harry’s bad reputation for being downright savage toward small talk and pleasantries at these social events always worked wonders at keeping people away from them until the party ended. And it was no different this time, though Ron could still see some vultures were quietly inching closer to them from the moment Harry walked into the room. He guessed the reason for this bold change had to be because of the beautiful young man _(boy, actually!)_ Harry had been keeping glued to his side this time.

But no matter how curious they were, no one dared to approach as the crime boss walked straight to where the Lestrange brothers were chatting pleasantly with a gorgeous lady.

“Ah Harry, you came.” Rabastan was the first to notice Harry when they came close, and smiled brightly in greeting.

“Of course, did you think I wouldn’t?” Harry replied with a polite smile, “Rodolphus, Rabastan, thank for inviting me.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you here.” Rodolphus nodded, shaking Harry’s hand.

His boss turned to the silver blonde hair woman then, who had been talking with the two brothers before. She had sharp blue eyes, which were staring intently at the boy quietly stood by Harry’s side.

“Fleur,” Harry called her name with something akin to nostalgia, “Long time no see.”

The beautiful woman turned to Harry and smiled warmly, “Harry, it’s so greet to see you again. How have you been doing?”

Her voice had a nasal accent, _French surely_ , Ron thought.

“I’m doing great.” Harry replied, then in a quieter voice he added, “How...?”

His boss didn’t manage to finish that sentence, but Fleur appeared to have no problem understanding the unfinished question.

“They’re all good,” she said softly, “but miss you terribly. We all do.”

Harry took a shuddering breath before he pulled himself back together, “Tell them I miss them too, and please be safe. I’ll be waiting like a good boy.” Harry grinned teasingly at the last part, though his eyes appeared completely somber.

Fleur nodded, “Of course, you know we didn’t even want to let you go. But you have made all of us proud with what you’ve accomplished here. On your own. Like father like son, right?”

She chuckled, and with that sentence the glooming atmosphere around them seemed to lifted up somehow. The Lestrange brothers had quietly excused themselves the moment Harry began his talk with Fleur, so it was only Ron left to hear what was said next.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who’s this young man?” Fleur started, eyes curious.

She was looking at Tom, and Harry’s lips pulled up in a dangerously happy grin. “How terribly rude of me, let me properly introduce you to Tom here.” Harry’s right hand sneaked around to grasp the boy’s lean waist and pulled him closer to his side. “He’s my chosen one.”

Blue eyes widen in shock, “Your... _chosen one_?” Fleur stammered while Ron snapped his head around to look at his best friend.

It wasn’t like Ron hadn’t been expected this outcome, he just didn’t think Harry would admit to Fleur the truth so soon. Because telling this woman also meant sending a loud and clear announcement back to his family.

“Yes,” Harry breathed softly, green eyes darkened possessively while his other free hand grasped the frozen boy’s chin to turn his head around.

“My _precious_ chosen one.” Harry whispered tenderly as he pressed a kiss to the boy’s cheek.

Ron was sure nobody except him, Fleur, and the boy in Harry’s arms had been close enough to hear his boss’ words. But that wasn’t necessary since they all could see his meaning clearly with their eyes, and everyone had been discreetly watching this whole time.

“I... see,” Fleur finally breathed, “I’ll deliver your message to them.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiled, still not letting go of the boy.

Tom appeared to be both too confused and too shocked to do anything other than stay inside Harry’s possessive hold. Not that Ron ever saw the boy aggressively refuse his boss’ advances.

“Lily would be very happy to hear about this.”

Fleur’s voice was kind, but Harry’s smile still wavered for a moment before he replied in a quiet breaking tone. “I hope so.”


	11. Devil Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Gareth Dunlop <3

After the unexpected revelation, Harry moved with Fleur to one of the couches lying around in a quiet corner. He tugged Tom down to sit by his side then snapped his fingers to ask for drinks and foods served. Fleur silently watched with amusement clear on her face at the way Harry fussed over the young boy. He only quitted his embarrassing actions after Tom honestly snapped and, with burning cheeks, asked him to stop being ridiculous.

Harry pouted, _really pouted_ , before he sighed disappointedly and turned back for another conversation with Fleur, who couldn’t stop giggling at his hurt face.

Around an hour or so later, Tom asked for the restroom’s direction and stood up to leave. Before Harry even opened his mouth, Ron had already gotten up to follow the boy. The red head’s main job was to keep Harry safe, but his boss was quite capable of fending for himself at the moment.

Harry’s little darling? Probably not.

Ron was glad that he had been right in going after Tom, because the moment the boy finished taking care of his bladder and began to head back to the main hall, Draco Malfoy was there waiting for them.

_Damn_ , Ron cursed silently, _the annoying ferret’s really a pain in the ass!_

“Weasel,” the blonde sneered at him, “It’s unpleasant to see the likes of you around here.”

“Well, I don’t particularly like seeing you either,” Ron snapped, “So would you mind moving out of the way, and we can each pretend the other doesn’t exist for the rest of the night?”

“Of course,” he smirked, “I wouldn’t want to waste my time on you. I just want to have a little chat with Potter’s newest toy.”

“Careful there, Malfoy.” Ron warned.

“And why should I? I said nothing wrong.” The Malfoy heir snickered, “I’m just wondering how long this one will last in Potter’s care.”

“You’re so childish,” Ron sighed exasperatedly, “Would you just grow up already? Everyone knows Harry had never been serious with anyone he took to his bed, and he had done nothing to give the illusion that you would be treated differently after he was done with you. It isn’t his fault your _fragile_ precious pride can’t swallow it.”

“ _You_ ,” the blonde growled, “How dare you? I’m a Malfoy. Potter has no right to bring a slut here and parade him around. It’s an insult to me, and I won’t allow it.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you.” Ron shook his head. Damn it, he was so tired of dealing with conceited pricks, “And Harry is Harry, he can do whatever the fuck he wants and no one can do anything about it. Not even your _Daddy_.”

Malfoy suddenly threw a punch at him, seething. But Ron easily blocked the blow in his palm and slammed the blonde back to the wall behind, “Just give up, Malfoy. I know you don’t even like Harry that much. You just can’t accept there’s something even your name can’t help you buy.”

Ron let go of Malfoy, turned to grasp Tom’s arm, and ushered the boy around the defeated blonde to get them back to the party. He missed the taunting smirk Tom threw at Malfoy behind his back, but definitely didn’t miss Malfoy’s angry words.

“Don’t think you can hide behind Potter’s dog forever, you worthless bastard.” The blonde yelled.

Ron heaved a deep sigh, discreetly watching Tom’s reaction. But the boy had put on his faultless blank face and Ron really couldn’t read what he was thinking. How could he have perfected an impeccable poker face so young?

“Don’t think too much, Malfoy’s just being his usual obnoxious self.” Ron tried anyway.

“How many more of your boss’ ex-lovers I shall be seeing throwing the same tantrum?” Tom suddenly asked.

Ron blinked, “Probably none.” He replied, “Malfoy’s a mistake, Harry usually slept with much older, more mature men. They all know what they’re gonna get from sleeping with him, and won’t easily let themselves get attached.”

“Just how many men had he slept with? Was there any woman?”

“No, only men.” Ron laughed, “As for how many, I can’t even begin to count. Harry doesn’t stay with anyone longer than two weeks, and he changes lovers faster than I change my own shirt. Hell, he even fucked all of my older brothers at least once.”

“Have you slept with your boss?” Tom asked in a detached voice.

“No, god no.” Ron spluttered, “I’m only interested in women, and I have ‘Mione now.”

Tom didn’t say anything more until they was close to the room hosting the party.

“Am I going to be just another fuck and discard plaything for him?” He finally asked the right question.

Ron watched the boy’s impassive face closely; Tom didn’t look like he would be affected no matter what answer Ron could give. Still, this was the chance he had been waiting for.

“No, you won’t.” Ron’s pale blue eyes looked straight into bottomless dark ones, “I know Harry, you’re not another flickering flame that will die out the moment he has slept with you. You may stay forever, but you should know that only pushes you into more dangers.”

As Ron had expected, the boy didn’t look either happy nor scared by his words. He just walked past Ron and straight back to the corner where his boss was sitting alone, draping himself leisurely over the couch’s back. Harry quickly sat up and pulled Tom closer the moment he sat down next to him.

“What took you so long? I was worried you got lost on the way back.” Harry murmured against Tom’s neck.

“I won’t get lost so foolishly.” Tom huffed, and when he turned his head to look at Harry, his alluring maroon eyes momentarily flashed red under the bright lights of the huge chandelier hanging above them, “I always know where I’m heading.”

Harry seemed to be lost inside the boy’s capturing gaze for a moment before he blinked, snapping out off of Tom’s spell. Then he smiled slowly, dangerously, _possessively_.

“I know.” Harry whispered as crimson eyes fluttered closed when he pressed his lips against their soft lids.


	12. Aphrodite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from an addictive song with the same name by RINI :">

Lately Tom was acknowledged by all of the people hanging around Harry’s mansion, either with a polite nod or a quick greeting. He knew they changed attitude after what had happened at the party a few weeks ago. But Tom still wasn’t sure about where he stood with Harry, and had yet to determine how he felt about the green eyed man.

It was the last day of July, and the sky was dark when Tom got back from the library. He immediately noticed something was wrong by the way everyone kept their distance from the mansion’s center part. Or in different words, everyone was trying to stay as far away from the crime boss as possible. He had assumed they would be throwing a party tonight at the very least, and had gotten off work sooner to get back because of that.

But no matter how much friendlier those people were to Tom now, he knew they wouldn’t answer his questions, not if it was something that even Harry hadn’t told him beforehand. So he just walked further into the place where he shared space with the other man instead of seeking anyone out.

Tom had even wondered if Harry might not be home at the moment, but then he walked into the dark parlour and saw the man he had been thinking of sitting on the couch right in the middle of the room. He reached to switch on the light but Harry’s voice stopped him before he could.

“Don’t.” The man said shortly.

Tom dropped his hand and took a look around, seeing no one else but the man on the couch. The room was dimmed; the only light it had coming from the twinkling stars shining outside the windows. Tom walked closer and sat down next to Harry.

“Where’s your red head?” he asked. That man was like Harry’s own shadow when he wasn’t sleeping, so it was strange not to see him lurking around.

“I gave him a day off and sent him on a date with his wife,” Harry answered dully, “I want to be alone tonight.”

Tom was silent for a minute. “Alright,” he said cautiously, “then I guess I shall go to my room now.”

But Harry had reached out just as he got up to leave, grasped his hand and tugged hard, making him fall back down on the couch.

“Don’t.” The other man whispered so low he almost couldn’t hear him, “Stay, _please_.”

Tom blinked. “I’ll stay,” he said then shifted a bit to find a more comfortable position. Harry didn’t say anything more and Tom sat in silence, watching the other man.

Tom knew he looked older than his actual age, but how young he was still reflected in the delicate edges of his face, making him appeare almost angelic. Beautiful.

Harry, on the other hand, was dazzlingly handsome at his age. Those bright emerald orbs could fool people sometimes; but when the man was serious, he could be breathtakingly terrifying.

But the fire in those expressive eyes was subdued now.

Harry only had his black shirt and dress pants on, and in his left hand was a glass of whiskey, most likely from the half full bottle on the table in front of them. He didn’t appear to be drunk, and Tom knew from the last party’s experience that the older man had a very high tolerance for alcohol. He kept looking at the phone lying next to the bottle, it seemed he both wanted it to ring and also hoped it wouldn’t. Tom didn’t know whose call Harry was waiting for, but he didn’t like the forlorn look on the man’s face in that moment.

It made him feel like the world somehow had shattered Harry’s heart, and left him bereft for far too long.

Tom reached into his pocket with the hand Harry wasn’t holding to pull out a small wrapped box. “Here,” he said as he gave it to the man.

“What is it?” Harry had to let go of Tom’s hand so he could take the little box from the boy.

“It’s your present,” Tom explained simply, “Happy birthday.”

Harry’s breath hitched and he lost his words for several minutes, staring at the gift in his hand. Then he looked up, and those green eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“How do you know?” The older man asked quietly.

“Your red head told me; it’s just a small gift.”

 _Because your useless subordinate had to wait until yesterday to inform me, so I have no time to prepare a better gift for you,_ Tom thought irritatedly.

“Still,” Harry smiled brightly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I open it?”

Tom nodded, and Harry put the glass in his hand down to start unwrapping his present. Inside the small wooden box was a pair of cufflinks, with two verdant gemstones inlaid on their front faces and silver posts. They were beautiful in their simplicity.

“They look expensive,” Harry breathed in awe, unable to say anything else.

“Not really,” Tom reassured, “and thanks to you, I’ve been able to save up some money I rarely have the need to use anyway.”

Before Harry became his guardian, all of Tom’s hard-earned money had been used to feed himself and pay for books, those that his scholarship wasn’t enough to cover. Now, Tom wasn’t passing each day with a growling stomach, and Harry also gave him monthly allowance for anything he might need. So when the summer came, Tom’s savings budget had been filling up more with his job at the library.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.” Harry said again.

 _But_ _even they can not compare to the vivid_ _shade_ _of your eyes,_ Tom quietly thought.

“You’ve already thanked me.”

“Yes. It’s just,” Harry faltered, “it’s been years since the last time I received a birthday present.”

“Why…” Tom was about to ask Harry to explain, but the sudden vibration of the man’s phone cut him off.

Harry nearly jumped out of the couch in his haste to reach the phone. Tom only caught the incoming call’s number on the screen and it didn’t have a name, before Harry picked up. Whoever on the other side had to have a great impact on Harry, because Tom never saw the other man’s impeccable self-control crumbled so fast. In just an instant after hearing the caller’s voice, Harry no longer could stop the tears from spilling out. He looked like a lost child who had finally found an oasis after years of wandering on desert land.

“Mom...” Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of the hand that still clutched the wooden box tightly.

“No, no, I’m fine. Really. How’s dad?” He asked quickly, trying to hide how vulnerable he was feeling from his voice.

Something heavy pressed down on Tom’s chest when he saw the heartbroken expression on the older man’s face. The longer he watched, the deeper the sorrow and loneliness oozing out of him seeped into Tom’s core. After a while, when he couldn’t take seeing Harry falling apart in front of him any longer, Tom stood up and quietly left the room.

He didn’t want to run away from Harry when the man was obviously breaking; but staying also felt like he was intruding into a very private part of Harry’s life, where Tom wasn’t sure he was welcomed yet.


	13. I Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Zoey Lily.

Tom walked into his bedroom and proceeded to take a long bath, trying to clear his mind and ease the sadness still weighting down his heart. Harry was a powerful man with fiery temper, yet he treated Tom with aching tenderness. And while the other man had to know _almost_ everything about his life, Tom knew next to nothing of Harry’s. Tonight was the first time Tom caught a glimpse of what the older man’s life might have been before he was who he was now.

And it didn’t look like a happy story.

Tom was still deep in thought when he walked out of the bathroom, wearing one of his softest pajamas, only to come to an abrupt halt when he saw the man he had been thinking about resting comfortably on his bed.

Harry was lying on his side, facing the bathroom door with closed eyes, but Tom didn’t expect the man to be truly asleep. He was proven right the moment he sat down on the edge of the bed and Harry’s eyes immediately snapped open.

“Why did you leave?” Harry asked before Tom could say anything.

“I wanted to give you some privacy.”

The man nodded. He looked so tired and worn out, but not as miserable as before, and Tom’s hands itched to reach out and comfort him. He mentally stomped down on that ridiculous impulse.

“I thought you would talk longer.” Tom said conversationally.

“We can’t.” Harry gave him a sad smile, “Longer connections can be dangerous.”

Tom didn’t ask the other man to clarify; he didn’t think he would be allowed to know, it seemed like sensitive information.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Harry suddenly asked, and when Tom didn’t give his answer quickly enough, he misunderstood Tom’s shocked silence for hesitation and elaborated, “Just sleeping, don’t worry.”

Tom gave a small chuckle, “I know how much of a gentleman you are.”

He stood up to turn off the light, then unfolded the thick blanket at the foot of his bed before settling down beside Harry, wrapping the blanket over both of them. Harry’s right hand found Tom’s and gently threaded their fingers together. The glimmering starlights outside the windows fell on his handsome features and Tom found he literally couldn’t take his eyes away.

“My family lives in France,” Harry suddenly spoke, so quietly that Tom had to strain his ears to listen. “Our family name’s notorious in the underworld across Europe, even though the Potters are originally British. My grandparents moved to France when my dad was little, and he took the reins of our family’s shady business when he turned seventeen. But mom didn’t know anything about that part of his life when she fell in love with him. My mother,” Harry laughed dryly, “she was a cop before dad literally seduced her to the dark side.”

_Well, that start spells disaster for sure,_ Tom mentally grimaced.

“When mom discovered the truth, she was so mad that she immediately broke things off with dad. From what I’ve heard, they spent a few painful months trying to pretend they had stopped loving each other, that they had moved on. But in the end, no matter how wrong they are for each other, they couldn’t win in a fight against their own hearts. Mom forgave dad when he properly apologized for lying to her about who he was, and they got back together. Then mom got pregnant with me and she decided to quit her job. She loves fighting to protect people, but if she had chosen to be with a mob boss then she couldn’t keep being the representation for justice anymore. But back then, mom was working on a case involving the German gangsters, and she wanted to finish her last mission properly before she left the force. That was her first mistake.”

Harry sighed deeply, and was silent for a moment. Tom didn’t rush him, just lightly squeezed the hand holding his. The other man’s hands were always so warm.

“By pure coincidence,” Harry continued slowly, his thumb gently stroking the back of Tom’s hand, “my mom found out a secret association between the German gangster’s boss and the head director of her department; they were lovers. The hardest part was that Albus Dumbledore, other than being the esteemed chief police that everyone adored, was also my mom’s dearest mentor. She had practically looked up to that man her whole life. So when she first discovered his dirty secret, she didn’t know what to do. In the end, she decided not to expose that man. Because she was also in love with the wrong person and she thought she didn’t have the right to judge her ex-teacher, who taught her everything and always been so kind to her. Sadly, Dumbledore didn’t gave her the same courtesy. When he was informed that his most brilliant student knew his secret, he didn’t hesitate in doing everything he could to eliminate her immediately.”

Tom squeezed Harry’s hand tightly when the other man stopped to take a deep breath.

“How did that man know?” He inquired softly.

Harry closed his eyes, his voice trembled slightly with repressed rage, “One of dad’s closest friends, Peter, betrayed him and leaked that information to Grindelwald, the German boss, who then told his dirty cop of a lover. Dumbledore’s attack came swift and unexpected. Nobody had thought that old man could do something so cruel, especially to his once most favorable student. Fortunately, uncle Remus, my godfather’s husband, had come to visit mom at the right time. He had rushed to bring my unconscious mother to the nearest hospital; but he hadn’t been able to save her parents, they were dead when he got there. Mom was seven months pregnant then, and her _kind_ mentor had shot right in her womb.”

Tom couldn’t stop himself anymore, he scooted closer to wrap his free hand around Harry’s waist and hold the other man tight. Harry let out a shuddering breath, buried his nose into the boy’s soft hair, and inhaled his familiar clean and nice smell. He loved the way Tom disliked using any product with too strong synthetic fragrance, because the boy’s own scent was very pleasant. Harry took a few more minutes just to bask in the feel of holding his most precious one so close to his heart.

He finally let Tom’s hand go to thread his fingers in the boy’s dark curls, and continued the story of his past, “The bullet was straight through, and luckily it didn’t graze me, but mom had lost so much blood. It was dangerous to try and save me without putting her life at risk. But mom was adamant about saving me, while dad threatened to murder the doctors if they couldn’t save both of us. We made it out alive in the end, but my mom had to pay a hefty price; she never could bear another child again.” Tom wasn’t able to see Harry’s face when he was held tightly against the man’s chest, but he could still feel the overwhelming sadness radiating off from him. “My dad was furious, and that was the start of the longest mob war between the British and the German gangsters that went on for over a decade. Sirius Black, my godfather and the head of the French crime organization, joined in the war when Albus used his connection in the law enforcement to help his lover. It escalated out of control when an assassination attempt intended for Albus Dumbledore resulted in the death of Gellert Grindelwald; and with the German boss’s death, Dumbledore’s dirty secret was also out in the public. But right when everyone thought it was the end, the old man proved to be a formidable enemy in vengeance for his lover. Forced to leave the force, Dumbledore took over the German gang in less than a year, and his first target for revenge was me.”

“What?” Tom said in disbelief, “Is that man mental? You had absolutely nothing to do with that war.”

“But I’m both the Blacks and the Potters’ greatest weakness. Dumbledore knew eliminating me would be the most devastating blow he could deliver to the enemies who had murdered his heart.” Harry explained with dry amusement, “He almost succeed if Hedwig hadn’t thrown herself in front of the crossfire to save me.”

“Hedwig?”

“She was one of my family maids, she had cared for me since I was a small baby. Hedwig was my first friend.” Harry mumbled into his boy’s hair, grief-stricken, and Tom rubbed the man’s back soothingly. “That episode almost scared my family to death, and they decided to send me as far away as possible from the bloody war. No one stopped to ask what I wanted or how I felt being ripped away from home.”

Tom wriggled out of Harry’s tight hold and moved up so he could see the man’s face. Harry let him. He looked nostalgic, but a small smirk pulled up at the corner of his mouth when Tom said knowingly, “I imagine you didn’t go without putting up one hell of a fight.”

“Oh, I did. I went kicking and screaming, I didn’t want to leave my family behind. They could die at any moment in that dangerous war, and I wouldn’t be able to help from far away. But I have to leave. Because Sirius and my parents can take any loss, but not me. They couldn’t bear losing me.” Bright green eyes were drowned in anguish, and his throat choked up with too much emotion but Harry continued on, “And though I understand their reasons, it still hurt so damn much to stay here and not go running back to them.”

“I just realized I haven’t asked you,” Tom suddenly said, and Harry looked at him in question, “but how old are you?”

“You don’t know?” he asked in honest surprise and Tom shook his head. “I just turned twenty-six today.”

_So he’s eleven years older than me_ , Tom thought quietly. “And you haven’t seen your family in more than ten years?”

“It’s been fifteen years since I last saw them,” Harry corrected, “I came here when I was only eleven.”

“You must have missed them dearly,” Tom said, though personally he didn’t understand the sentiment. He never had a chance to know his parents and quite frankly, he didn’t believe they loved him.

“I miss them every day, more than anything.” Harry looked so despondent when he said that, and Tom unconsciously moved into his arms again. “We can’t keep contact to prevent any chances of Dumbledore finding out where I am. Because the Potters are from Britain, my family will send someone here each year under the pretense of taking care of some small business that the Potters still have running here. That person will exchange messages between me and my family in prepare for the phone call that will later come on my birthday. It’ll be the only time in a year when I can hear their voices, and be certain that they’re really safe and sound, and waiting for the day we can meet again.”

“It must be hard.” Tom murmured.

Harry smiled, a heart-aching painful sort of smile, “It was, _still_ is, especially when I first come here. I felt so angry and hurt back then, and I did so many reckless things to ease the raging fire within my heart. There’re only one good thing that has come out from all those wild and stupid years, and it’s the chance to meet Ron.”

“I do see how much you two care for each other, in the most annoying way,” the dark eyed boy commented in a mocking tone.

Harry laughed, his green eyes sparkled with mirth, and Tom was glad to see much of the sorrow inside had been cleared out. Harry sighed after a while, his arms wrapped around Tom in a loose and relaxing grip.

“It’s why I don’t particularly enjoy my birthday. It’s the day I most look forward to because I can hear from my family again, but it’s also the day that had brought so much pain to my mom.” He quietly confessed.

Tom touched Harry’s face and laid his hand on the man’s cheek. The way Harry immediately leaned toward his touch like he was starved for it made Tom’s heart flutter.

“I’m sure you must already know,” he said slowly, “but my mom died giving birth to me. So I don’t particularly like my birthday either.”

Harry put his hand over Tom’s and leaned over to press a soft kiss on the boy’s forehead, “What a pair we make.” He breathed against Tom’s ears, pulling his boy in for another hug. Harry smiled when slowly but firmly, the other boy hugged him back.

“Thank you for telling me,” Tom said earnestly after a while, and Harry only squeezed him tighter in response.

He didn’t let go of his hold on Tom for the rest of the night, and all of the nights after that. Tom should have known better than to easily allow Harry stay in his room and sleep on his bed. The green eyed man would never back off once he had successfully made another move forward. And Tom could do nothing to stop him from getting closer to his traitorous heart.


	14. The Hate Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name produced by Tommee Profitt <3

September came, as did Tom’s sophomore year at Hogwarts. The rest of the summer after Harry’s birthday had passed in peace, somewhat. Other than the way Harry shamelessly moved into Tom’s bedroom and refused to keep a proper distance in his sleep, nothing changed.

In truth, Tom was feeling _frustrated_ about that.

It was harder to keep Harry out of his mind when Tom kept letting him invade into every corner of his life. The more he got used to the green eyed man’s tender touch, his warm body or the intense way Harry kept looking at him, the quicker Tom’s heart was succumbing and falling right into his hands. Then what would happen after that? He hated losing control, and he hated it even more for allowing someone to have so much control over him.

Tom was a near bursting ball of pent up frustration by the end of September, an inevitable aftermath of two months being the sole focus under Harry’s amped up affection. After they had a heart-to-heart that night, in Harry’s exact words explaining to his red head’s incredulous looks, the man went from being a bit handsy to literally attaching himself to Tom. Like a damn barnacle he couldn’t pry off no matter how hard he tried.

To sum it up, Tom was very close to exploding if anyone other than Harry poked him the wrong way; so it was completely Draco Malfoy’s fault for choosing the worst possible time to come pissing him off.

\-- -- --

Tom was pulling out his bike from the parking lot at school when the sun was slowly setting in the sky over his head. In the first few days, Harry had complained and wanted to have one of his private cars drive Tom to school and back, but his wish was firmly refused. Harry pouted for an entire week after that, until Ron couldn’t take his boss’ childish tantrum anymore and begged Tom to just do something. He had had to explain to Harry that he just wanted to do some exercise, he wasn’t in any clubs at school and the man had also asked him to drop all of his part-time jobs, plus the distance between Hogwarts and the mansion wasn’t that far.

Which was a blatant lie; Tom just didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to himself, especially not for the sudden jump from poor orphan brilliant scholarship student to filthy rich spoiled boy having his own chauffeur driving him around. Harry bought his lie with a bit of whining, but gave in eventually to the relief of everyone.

“So you’re Tom Riddle.”

An arrogant voice spoke up and Tom swirled around to see three unfamiliar faces crowding up behind him. Well, not all of them were unfamiliar, he did recognize the one in the middle, blonde hair and gray eyes; the guy who had had a confrontation with Harry’s red head at the party three months ago.

Tom’s face didn’t betray anything when he replied, “Yes, and you’re?”

The blonde scowled, “I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. They’re Goyle and Crabbe.”

Tom smiled coolly, “What do you want?”

“I want you to stay away from Potter.” Malfoy ordered haughtily.

Tom didn’t say anything for a moment, then he asked pleasantly, still with a blank face. “And why should I?”

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” Malfoy gritted his teeth.

“I apologize. Are you someone important that everyone should hear about?” Tom asked in faked clueless tone, and hid an amused smile when he saw the way the blonde and his minions’ faces darkened in irritation.

In truth, he just enjoyed rilling Harry’s ex-lover up, because he did know Draco Malfoy. Or more accurately, he had heard about him. Tom hadn’t personally met Malfoy before the scene at the party three months ago, but he had heard of his name long before that.

Tom didn’t have need for friends, and because his previous illegal working outside school was against Hogwarts’ rules, he had tried to maintain a low profile with non-existent social network, to keep the chance of being recognised and getting expelled as small as possible. But he still sneakily caught the gossips going around school from time to time, because it never hurt to know too much.

Draco Malfoy was three years older than Tom if he remembered correctly, and was currently in his senior year at Hogwarts. He was famous indeed, but not for his scores in classes or any special talents. He was well known for how ridiculously wealthy his family was. The Malfoy heir was the epitome of young spoiled rich kids, with too much privilege and money for their own good. Tom despised the haughty attitude of those who believed they were superior than the rest, when personally they had nothing worthy of notice to themselves if one were to take away their daddy or mommy’s affluence.

Such as the arrogant blonde in front of him now.

“I guess you plebeians can’t hear about me from your place in the dirt,” Malfoy sneered and his two minions snickered, “just stay away from Potter, you aren’t worthy of his attention anyway.”

“And yet, Harry gives me all the attention _you_ crave, enough that you snotty slob had to come threatening an unworthy rival like me.” Tom mocked. The blonde’s words had hit right where he shouldn’t have crossed, and Tom’s already thin control finally snapped.

“Watch your mouth, Riddle, this time you don’t have Potter’s loyal dog sniffing around to protect you.” One of Malfoy’s large minions growled.

“Am I the one needing protection?” Tom lifted one elegant eyebrow, “I’m not someone who has to bring two burly _friends_ along to have a little chat with an underclassman.”

A few other students who had noticed the scene and gathered around them laughed, then promptly yelled in horror when Malfoy’s huge friends turned red at Tom’s blatant mocking and lurched at him.

Tom easily side stepped Goyle’s attack and at the same time blocked Crabbe’s first with his palm, using the other’s momentum to throw a brutal punch to his gut. Crabbe dropped to the ground, body doubled in pain and unable to get up again. He briskly turned to Goyle, who had fallen right into the bunch of bikes behind him and was groaning pathetically. Tom gripped his shirt and pulled him out of the cluster of fallen vehicles, then in one swift move slammed his head against the concrete wall beside them, effectively knocked Goyle out cold.

The small crowd of lingering students screamed at his ruthlessness, then fell dead silent when he turned and slowly walked to the pale, shaking blonde.

“I’ve never needed anyone’s protection,” Tom taunted with a menacing smirk, managing to appear to be looking down on the conceited blonde even though they were at the same height, “Unlike _you_.”

Tom had grown quite a lot in the last few months, still a bit shorter than Harry, but he was going to grow taller than even Ron at this rate. He couldn’t be more pleased with that prospect.

Blood drained from Malfoy’s face; he had greatly underestimated his enemy. This boy had seemed so docile back at the Lestrange’s party, standing quietly behind Potter’s most loyal dog. He had even looked into Potter’s new toy’s past, and hastily assumed Tom Riddle to be no real threat, just a very smart boy with a troubled past, nothing special. He hadn’t taken into account how competent at fighting the supposedly meek boy could be even when he was outnumbered.

“You’re nothing,” Malfoy snarled, trying to suppress his fears, “Potter always loves to play with pretty new things, you’ll get thrown away as soon as he’s bored of you. And he _always_ will.”

“Ah,” Tom said, amused, “like how he had played and disposed of you, yes?”

Tom dodged the blonde’s sudden punch with ease, then with fast reflex caught Malfoy’s wrist and swiped his legs. The blonde howled at the resounding crack from his right shoulder when he lost balance and stumbled down.

“Stop that incessant crying, it’s probably just a dislocated arm.” Tom said, unconcerned, before crouching down to give the sobbing blonde a condescending smile. He could see in his periphery the few students previously swarming around had scrambled away; some were murmuring _‘Call the teachers’_ but he didn’t care enough to try and stop them.

“You bastard,” Malfoy cried, clutching at his useless shoulder, “You’re just a poor orphan nobody wants. You have nothing but a nice face. And how many men before Potter had you used that to climb on their beds, filthy slut?”

Tom’s maroon eyes flashed red and he snarled lowly, “You _really_ shouldn’t say that.”

Without further warning, slender fingers had encased Malfoy’s neck in a death grip. Tom’s face was blank, cold crimson eyes watching the blonde’s desperate effort to pry off his chokehold with one hand. When Malfoy was close to fainting from the lack of air and Tom didn’t look like he was about to stop, not before his foolish prey stopped breathing, an unfamiliar voice had halted his homicidal attempt.

“Please refrain from killing the prick, pretty one.”

When Tom didn’t comply or even look up, the newcomer sighed heavily and crouched down to his eye level. Shoulder length and familiar red hair with a pair of hard blue eyes, Tom could easily guess who this man was without asking.

“I’m Bill, Ron’s oldest brother. Nice to meet you, _properly_.” The man introduced conversationally, like the boy in front of him wasn’t trying to murder another boy with his bare hands. When Tom lifted an immaculate eyebrow in silent question, Bill chuckled and answered honestly, “Harry orders me to secretly follow you around and protect you when necessary.”

“And you’re allowed to tell me that?”  Tom asked, unimpressed.

“No,” Bill laughed cheerfully, “I’m not even supposed to reveal myself to you, unless in a dire circumstance.”

Bill averted his gaze down when the blonde on the ground coughed and let out a weak whimper, then he said nonchalantly, “The Malfoy family is a useful ally, it wouldn’t be favorable for anyone if you off their only heir. Can you be kind and release him?” When Tom still didn’t slacken his unyielding grip, the man added, “for Harry, maybe?”

Something flicked inside the boy’s intimidating gaze, and right before Malfoy passed out he pulled his hand back. The blonde coughed violently in between harsh breaths, but Tom didn’t spare Malfoy another glance as he stood up. Bill quickly followed suit.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, “Dealing with a body in broad daylight with witnesses around would be very troublesome.”

“How dare you?” Malfoy growled after he had regained his breath, voice rough and blind with rage, “My father will hear about this. Not even Potter can protect yo--”

Tom gave the blonde's head a vicious kick and he was out cold.

“Annoying prick,” Bill muttered, “but must you do that?”

“He’ll live.” Tom breathed, unrepentant.

Bill huffed out a laugh. “That’s a relief.”

 


	15. Dust to Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by The Civil Wars <3
> 
> Warning: Past child sexual abuse.

When a teacher finally arrived, Bill Weasley had disappeared from the scene. Tom was taken to the Headmistress’ office while the school contacted his legal guardian. It took Harry less than fifteen minutes to come barging in, so Tom guessed someone must have called the man before his teacher did. Harry immediately walked to where his boy was seated with a concerned look, but when he reached out to touch Tom, the boy quickly avoided his hands. Harry looked shocked, probably because this was the first time Tom had outright rejected his touch.

But before Harry could question Tom, the office door opened again and a distinguished middle-aged man walked in. His long blonde hair was tied back neatly, and icy gray eyes sharply focused on the only young boy in the room; Harry briskly stepped in front of Tom and blocked off the other man’s calculating gaze.

“Lucius,” Harry greeted in an amiable tone, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I wouldn’t say this is a pleasurable meeting,” Lucius replied blandly. “You’re awfully protective of that boy, seem like recent rumours around your scandalous love life weren’t completely false.”

Harry didn't get to reply to Lucius’ offhand remark, because headmistress McGonagall chose that exact moment to walk out of her inner office, and called both of them in for a private talk. Tom was requested to stay in the outer room.

After everyone had disappeared from his sight, Tom took a deep breath and mentally groaned, _My scholarship, damn it!_

In all the years of being a model student, this was the first time Tom had gotten himself into serious trouble. He was already near the end of his rope before the Malfoy heir came provoking him, and Tom blamed it all on Harry for the way his once infallible composure had foolishly snapped. He really, _really,_ needed to put an end to the madness inside his heart, he had allowed it to drag on long enough.

\-- -- --

Tom didn’t say anything and was distant on the whole way back to Harry’s mansion. He could feel the green eyed man’s worried gaze on him, but he refused to acknowledge it. Ron stealthily made himself scarce when they got home, already sensing the volatile tension between Harry and his little darling in the car, and really didn't want to get caught in the middle of their incoming explosion.

“Tom.” Harry softly called the unusually quiet boy.

But he was ignored as Tom just walked past him and went deeper into the house. He quickly followed the boy and was confused when Tom led them straight into the kitchen, then leapt forward to grip Tom’s wrist when he suddenly grabbed a knife and brought it dangerously close to his face.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked in horror, desperately trying to pry the sharp weapon off the boy’s hand.

 _Why hadn’t he realized those slender fingers could be so strong?!_ He cursed silently.

“Tom! Give me the knife, _please!_ ” Harry resorted to begging when he couldn’t get the knife from Tom, not if he didn’t want to accidentally hurt the boy.

Surprisingly, Tom allowed him to take the blade, but then he briskly took a few steps back and out of Harry’s reach instead. Harry put the knife safely away, yet he didn’t dare to approach the unpredictable boy again.

“Darling,” Harry tried his most soothing tone, “What’s wrong? Talk to me, please?”

Tom’s face was completely guarded when he finally replied, “You like my face, don’t you?”

“I… what?” Harry really couldn’t understand what that had to do with anything.

“Just answer me.” Tom said coldly.

“Yes. But…” He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence because Tom had cut him off again.

“You aren’t the only man who took an unhealthy amount of interest in me because of my looks. The first one would be when I was around four, or at least that was when I started to remember things.” A cold chill went through Harry’s core but Tom wasn’t finished yet. “You must already know I had spent a few years at an orphanage before I was found by my uncle. But I’m sure you didn’t know the reason I chose to endure my disgusting family’s abuse for years without telling anyone.”

“What happened?” Harry asked faintly, dreading to hear Tom’s answer but still desperately needing to know.

“Oh, nothing too bad. Just many old rich patrons would like to request some _alone times_ with the angelic orphan boy. But don’t worry, I’m still a virgin, if by being virgin you only count not having anything penetrate you down there yet. Those decrepit men just ordered me to get naked, and let them touch.”

Tom said those crude words in a detached tone, like he wasn’t talking about his own sexual harassment childhood, and Harry had never hated seeing the boy’s perfectly calm face more than at that moment.

“Who are they? Give me their names.” He gritted his teeth so hard his head starting to throb.

“How could I know? It’s not like they requested to introduce themselves to a plaything.” The boy replied, uninterested.

“Please,” Harry begged, “stop talking about yourself like that.”

Tom looked at the green eyed man’s livid expression and something squeezed hard in his chest. But he couldn’t stop. He wouldn't stop. The fragile growing attachment between them had to end now.

“Alright, let’s skip the details and talk about what happened after I was found by Morfin.” Tom continued. “As you have already known, both Morfin and Marvolo dislike me greatly. I’m just the bastard son of their stupid wayward Merope. They wouldn’t have come for me, if my father wasn’t loaded, and if Morfin hadn’t been deep in debt from his gambling hobby.”

“They used you to get your father’s money?”

“That was their initial bargain. They didn’t count on the possibility of my father’s refusing to have anything to do with me. And when that happened, they settled to murder him instead.”

“What?” Harry muttered in rage.

“Marvolo knew some baddies, those guys helped him murder my father and his parents, then covered it up as a casual robbery gone horribly wrong. I couldn’t say I feel sorry for them, those people had looked at me like I’m the dirtiest garbage, and how dare I came ruining their perfect life. So they had it coming.” Tom said viciously, “And because the Riddles didn’t have any distant family members left except a bastard grandson, all of their fortunes were transferred to my legal guardian, Marvolo, until I’m eighteen and can claim back my rightful heritage. If there’re any coins left after years lying wasted in that despicable man’s hands.”

“There are,” Harry said quietly, “Not as much as before but the Riddles’ accounts haven’t been drained completely yet.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, and then he said scathingly, “Glad to know.”

Not long after he killed the boy’s grandfather and uncle, the Weasley twins were finally able to uncover the Gaunts’ suspiciously deep pockets. Harry was enraged when they reported the truth to him, but had decided against telling Tom, afraid it might hurt the boy’s feelings.

He hadn’t realized Tom knew everything all along.

“That’s why you had tried to stop me from killing those scumbags, you said you didn’t want to end up in an orphanage.” Harry suddenly remembered the rare vulnerable moment he had seen from Tom that night, and cursed himself for not delving into it more. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Tom ignored how the obvious hurt in Harry’s gentle voice felt like a stab right to his heart as he continued to hurt the man even more.

“Why should I? I’ve never needed anyone to help me. Not even _you_.”

Harry flinched and Tom couldn’t breathe for a second but he swallowed hard, took a deep breath and continued.

“I’m no innocent weak boy, and had you actually jumped me on that first night when you brought me here, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you with all I have. I’ve survived after the orphanage and through Morfin’s beating. I thrived above all no matter how hard Marvolo had tried to break me and tell me I’m nothing but a waste of space, stupid and useless, just like my mother. I didn’t enjoy the way those dirty old men had touched me, but they helped me realize how much easier my life could be if I could learn to use my charms. And when you were left starving long enough, no dignity is more important than a scrap of food. I began to charm my ways into places no child should have been at, and learnt how to defend myself soon after. Malfoy and his minions were a joke compared to the real assholes I had to deal with. I didn’t work full-time at any places, and dropped my job as soon as I detected someone had taken an unhealthy interest in me.” Dark eyes flashed red as they looked straight into Harry’s, “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, and I’m just waiting for the moment I turn eighteen so I can get out of this damn city. And one day when I’m powerful enough, I’ll come back and make all the people who had wronged me pay for it. I have my life all planned out, I don’t need anyone’s help. You’re just another monster among all the beasts who wanted to use me.”

Harry recoiled as though he had been slapped across the face, but Tom still wasn’t finished yet.

“And I have allowed you getting close to me long enough. This has to end.” He ground out with finality, “You like my face? Fine, I’ll get rid of it and you can let me go.”

Harry took a deep breath then let it out slowly, trying to calm his distressed mind. It hurt, the boy’s callous words shattered his heart but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, lash out at Tom.

“You can’t do that.” He said decisively, hands clutching into tight fists, “and I’m sorry but no, I won’t let you go.”

“You…”

But it was Harry who cut Tom off this time.

“Just tell me,” he murmured, “and be truthful, _please_. Have I been making you feel used like those monsters? Have you always felt repulsed by all of my touches?”

Harry looked absolutely terrified and vulnerable in that moment, like all he needed was a confirmation from Tom and he would break wholeheartedly. And Tom... he really should say yes; it would make breaking things off with the man easier. But then it would be lying, and Tom didn’t want to lie to him. Harry didn’t deserve that.

Tom hated how sickly soft he was when it came to this man.

“No, I don’t.” Tom begrudgingly admitted, “But it only makes me hate you more.”

Harry’s tense posture sagged and he closed his eyes briefly; overwhelming relief rushed out of him in waves.

“No. You don’t,” he said gently and Tom bristled, “you’re just scared.”

“I am not.”

“Can I hold you?” Harry changed the subject so suddenly Tom was momentarily unable to process his words.

“You…,” he started, then closed his mouth and tried again, “I hate you. _So much_.”

Harry smiled indulgently, shaking his head and asked once more, “Can I hold you, please?”

Tom didn’t say anything; maroon eyes darkened to bottomless black watching Harry coldly as the other man took a few measured step to shorten the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around Tom tenderly, holding the slight, shorter boy close to his chest. Tom was tensed in his embrace, and Harry hid a sad smile in the boy’s dark curls.

“I know it’s terrifying when you let yourself care. But you’re not the only one, I’m scared too. You scare me more than anything,” he told the boy softly. “I’m bad with words, so I usually don’t say much. But I guess I should have tried to say it sooner, to make everything clear between us.”

Bright green eyes looked deep into inscrutable dark eyes, trying to reach the insecure soul hiding far underneath the cold mask and sharp words.

“I admit your beauty is what caught my gaze at first, but it isn’t what I’ve fallen for. You’ve captured me by the blazing fire of your soul.” Harry said earnestly, steadily holding Tom’s gaze, “They’re all wrong about you, darling. You’re so much more than just a pretty face. You’re brilliant and dedicated; a true survivor. You’re going to rise to the top, darling. The more I know about you, the more I adore you. I won’t let you go, ever, because I just can’t. Don’t you see how much power you’re having over me?”

Tom huffed, soft breaths that felt warm against Harry’s sensitive neck. He tried to suppress a shiver, holding the boy gently but firmly in his arms. Tom still didn’t hug him back but slowly, very slowly, the tension dissipated from his stance.

“When you told the French woman,” Tom said after a long silence, voice unreadable, “back at the party, that I’m your chosen one. What does that mean?”

“And here I thought you would never ask,” he chuckled. “Chosen one is a special code in my family. It can be interpreted as many things, but the most important meaning’s the one we want to spend the rest of our lives with.”

Tom stiffened again but didn’t push him away; Harry took that as a good sign to continue, “Dad knew mom was his chosen one right from the start. Padfoot took longer to realize how important Moony was, but he has always known Moony was special. And _you_ , I’ve known you’re the one for me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

“You told your family I’m your special one? How can you be so sure?” Tom asked, incredulous.

Harry only grinned at him, “The men in my family, we can recognize the one made just for us. It’s our special talent.”

“Then what if your chosen one doesn’t want to be with you?” Tom said coldly.

“I can be both persuasive and patient, in case you haven’t noticed my good traits yet,” Harry replied cheekily, unfazed.

“You’re unbearably clingy,” Tom rolled his eyes.

“You like me anyway.”

The boy didn’t respond, and yet he tentatively snaked his arms around Harry’s waist. He smiled brightly and pressed a quick kiss against Tom’s cheek.

“Are you feeling better now?” He asked gently, watching the boy’s face. Tom didn’t look as aloof as before when he nodded instead of answering, but Harry was still worried. “You shouldn’t boil up too much emotion inside, talk to me the next time you feel close to exploding, okay?”

Tom raised one perfect eyebrow, “In case it escaped your notice,” he taunted without much heat, “it’s your complete fault that I snapped so spectacularly.”

Harry gasped, and was about to protest but wisely chose to snap his mouth shut under the boy’s challenging dark gaze.

“Draco’s really a stupid mistake, I should’ve listened to Ron.” Harry whined, dropping his head on Tom’s shoulder in defeat. “But there won’t be a repeat of what happened today, I assure you.”

“I’m not worried about that, I care more about the possibility of losing my scholarship.” Then a sudden thought struck him, and Tom felt a bit contrite when he asked, “Will the Malfoys cause you trouble for what I did?”

“Who do you think I am? Don’t worry, you still have your scholarship, and no one will dare to talk about what happened. About Lucius,” Harry snickered harshly, “if it was appropriate, he would’ve already sent you a gracious gift for helping him teach his imprudent son a lesson.”

“What?” Tom was dumfounded.        

“Lucius and his wife took over ten years, wasted a great fortune and many attempts, to have a child. So Draco Malfoy, as the only heir of an old and wealthy family, was spoiled rotten since the day he was born. Lucius realized the fault in raising his son like a fucking prince too late, but despite how hard he wished to teach him better, he couldn’t. Cissy protects her little dragon fiercely and blindly, so Lucius can’t be too harsh on him without having his wife throwing a fit.” Harry chuckled. “Draco would pay or get himself into serious trouble with his attitude, sooner or later. The beating you gave him, hopefully, will teach him to think twice the next time he wants to gang up on someone he so foolishly underestimated. Lucius won’t complain as long as you didn’t actually kill or leave permanent damages on Draco.”

“I almost did.” Tom said, unapologetic.

“Yes, I heard,” Harry grinned, caressing one of the boy’s cool cheeks in his palm. “I know you stopped because of me. Thank you.”

Tom didn’t try to deny it, because that was the truth. He really had spared the conceited blonde for Harry’s sake.

“Why did you sleep with him?” He asked instead.

“I slept with many people, there’re no special reason. It’s just sex.”

“Really? But he seems to believe there’s something special between you two.”

“There’s really nothing,” Harry repeated, firm and convincing.

“Then what about the tailor who fitted my suit? You’re on a first name basis with that man, don’t say there’s nothing.”

“The tailor? You mean Cedric?” Harry looked surprised; then melancholy clouded his handsome face, “Cedric is... He’s special, yes.”

“Did you love him?” Tom asked bristly, something hot flared up inside his chest.

“No, of course not,” was Harry’s immediate reply, “it’s just, he’s my first of… everything. First crush, first kiss, first time. I had met him when I was very young, still hurting and vulnerable and all alone in a new country. We became a thing for two years, until he graduated from Hogwarts and I broke things off with him.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ll never work out. Cedric’s a good person, like really _really_ good at heart, that’s why he can never be right for me. I had known we wouldn’t last from the start.”

Tom looked into Harry’s mesmerising green eyes when he said, “But he loved you, _still_ loves you. Do you know that?”

The man smiled sadly, “I know. But the Harry that Cedric knew back in those days isn’t the real me. The boy he fell in love with isn’t the real Harry Potter. He had fallen for an illusion of me: a shy, kind boy with hands free of blood. That boy is dead, and he just can’t accept it.”

Tom didn’t say anything for a while. He tried to imagine another version of Harry, younger and awkward and reckless, so different from the striking confident man that he grew up to be. Tom believed that boy would burn just as bright as he was now, the most dangerous fire yet so capturing and beautiful. He remembered Cedric’s last yearning look, when he asked Tom to take care of the man he loved, and he thought Harry might get it all wrong.

Had he given Cedric a chance, he could have learn to love the real Harry Potter with enough time. Because how could he not, when even Tom couldn’t resist this man’s charms?

“Do not see him again.” Tom said with finality.

Harry looked at the boy in his arms with tenderness and adoration, like he always did, and accepted easily, “As you wish, darling.”

No need to ask for who his boy was talking about.

“You’re jealous,” Harry purred.

“You’re not the only possessive one,” Tom replied, voice velvety soft, “if you want me to be yours, you will have to be mine first.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

Tom looked pleased, then all of a sudden pulled Harry in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Harry was still frozen when Tom pulled back.

“It’s a deal,” he flashed a predatory grin seeing the older man’s dazed look, “and that’s my first kiss.”

“That’s not a kiss,” Harry’s nice warm voice lowered dangerously when he snapped out of his shock, “let me show you what a real kiss is.”

Deep green irises were blown up with lust as he surged forward and captured the boy’s lips again for a thoroughly sensuous kiss. It felt exhilarating, like jumping off a cliff, and Tom was free falling at lighting speed right into Harry’s tempting allure.

This time, he did not resist.


	16. No Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Unsecret.
> 
> Warning: Violence and Minor Character Death.

_10th December, 20xx_

_Somewhere in Bordeaux, France_

A dark haired man was tied to a lone chair in the middle of a dark cell, knots binding his wrists and legs tightly to the wood while blood seeped from numerous wounds on his body. Five burly men stood guard around the room, and in front of him was standing James Potter, head of one of the most influential families in France and his wife, Lily Evans-Potter. With beautiful flowing locks of red hair that reached to slim waist, and piercing emerald eyes, the exact same shade of green her son inherited, Lily leaned down to look into the bottomless black eyes of her once best friend.

“Why?” her usual melodic voice rang cold, still hurting from his betrayal, “Tell me, Severus.”

“It was an honest accident,” the bound man rasped hoarsely, throat dried liked sandpaper from a whole day of torture. “Lupin shouldn’t have been there that day.”

“So what if James was there, like you were led to believe?” Lily asked, livid. “Would you have hesitated to give him one more shot in the head instead of just leaving him to die of blood loss, like what you did to Moony?”

“Potter deserves it,” he hissed, “but watching both him and Black crumble when they lost another _friend_ will be enough. The infamous Marauders, one betrayed the rest, and one lost in the war of another. Such glorious friendship.”

The taunting was cut off by a loud gunshot; Snape howled when the bullet punctured his left shoulder.

“You talk too much.” James was still holding the gun, pointing it straight at the whimpering man’s head. He was an older version of his son, even more imposing and strikingly handsome, but with blazing hazel eyes instead of green. “Moony’s tougher than you think, bastard. He’ll pull through your vile scheme, he survived worse.”

Lily put one hand on her husband’s and lowered the gun, her other hand touched his face and James turned to look at her.

“Moony will be fine, you and I both know it. Don’t let him get to you,” she whispered soothingly, quiet enough so only James could hear, “we need him alive to find Dumbledore’s whereabouts. Calm down, please.”

James closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Right. I’m sorry, darling.” He mumbled, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

Severus Snape watched the loving couple in front of him with smoldering resentment in his black eyes. Lily was his best friend since childhood, and he believed they could have become so much more had she not met James _fucking_ Potter. She had been the brightest cop, his best partner, Dumbledore’s proudest student, before Potter came along and dragged her into the darkness. That man had fucked up their lives, and Snape vowed to do everything he could to ruin his.

Lily turned to him then, standing resolutely by Potter’s side. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but she was looking at him with coldest green eyes and his heart cracked some more.

“Severus,” she said his name with ice dripping in her tone, “just tell us Dumbledore’s hiding place and for our old time’s sake, I can let you go. This war has been dragging on for too long, so many meaningless deaths. We’re so close to ending it now and you know that.”

He did know that. The Blacks joined with the Potters was a force to be reckoned with. They had crushed the once undefeatable Grindewald, and even though it took longer, they had slowly but surely overthrown Dumbledore’s army. The old man had lost the battle in France, he had lost ugly and irrevocably, and the only way he could turn the tables on his powerful enemies depended solely on whether he could find their vulnerable weakness in time. Lupin was an honorable man, and if it was under different circumstances, Snape might have tried to save him. But that man had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, he had found out what he shouldn’t, so he had to die. There was no other way. Now Snape just had to endure and stall for more time.

The door suddenly banged open to reveal another man, with aristocratic face and eyes the color of rainclouds. A man that Snape hated just as much as Potter, Sirius Black, head of his own powerful family and Potter’s sworn brother. Snape had left Lupin to die, but not just to protect their plan. He had wanted to see both Black and Potter swallowed in anguish and torn apart because of Lupin’s death.

Sirius stalked into the room and passed both James and Lily without acknowledging either of them, a thundering storm brewed up inside his eyes, aiming at the chained-up man in the middle of the room. Sirius pulled out a gun when he came close enough and pressed it against Snape’s forehead, jerking the man’s head upward so he could look at his face.

“You fucking scumbag,” Sirius snarled through clenched teeth, “how dare you?”

“I guess this means your dear husband didn’t make it,” Snape sneered with contempt. “Serve you right.”

Sirius growled, but instead of firing the gun like everyone expected, he gave a vicious hit to the side of Snape’s head with the butt of his gun. Blood immediately dripped down the man’s face.

“I’m so glad to break the news to you, Snivellus.” Snape glowered at the old nickname and Sirius smiled mockingly. “My strong husband regained consciousness and was out of the ICU this morning. You understand what it means, don’t you?”

The black eyed man blanched.

“Yes,” Sirius was livid, “I know everything now, including the reason why the Order had tried desperately to kill Moony that night.”

“What did Remus tell you, Sirius?” Lily asked, an unknown fear suddenly running up her core, “Where’s Dumbledore hiding now?”

Sirius turned to her and answered in a grave voice, “Britain.”

“No,” Lily murmured, shaking her head, “no no no no.”

James quickly pulled her into his arms, shushing and trying his best to calm his frightened wife.

“How?” he asked Sirius.

“This greasy git here bugged Lily’s phone,” Sirius spat, “and recorded our talk with Harry a few months ago. Dumbledore intended to wait until they had more information on our boy, but your last attack almost took him down so he had to act sooner. Moony discovered all of this when he ransacked the Order’s headquarters in your place, and those few remaining chickens tried to kill him for it.”

“You bugged my phone?” Lily turned to Snape. “I trusted you because you said you weren’t taking anyone’s side. You know what he did to me! I thought we were friends!”

“We are. You’re my best friend, Lils. This isn’t about Dumbledore’s revenge. I… I love you, Lils.” Snape’s scratchy voice wavered slightly, “Potter’s bad for you, can’t you see that?! I only want what’s best for you!”

“Shut up.” James scoffed, his tone laced with abhorrence. “Don’t you dare use my wife as an excuse for your despicable acts. How dare you speak of love when you abused her trust to hurt her family? You don’t love her, you only love to own her, no matter how many of her loved ones have to die for that to happen. You’re just a selfish coward.”

“I just want to save you, Lils.” Snape rasped, looking at the red haired woman with begging eyes.

“I don’t need saving, Severus.” Cold green eyes regarded him with revulsion. “I intended to let you go this time even if you wanted to kill James, because there’s a war and you chose your side and I understood that. But you should never push the crossfire toward my son. Harry has nothing to do with this war, and he had already been hurt by it. He’s an innocent, just like my parents.”

Snape’s eyes widened when Lily took the gun in her husband’s hand, “I regret ever thinking of you as my true friend. Goodbye.”

She pulled the trigger without wasting more words, and Snape dropped dead with a bullet in his head, face still etched in shocked disbelief.

“Darling,” James’ touch was gentle on her cheek, wipping away the tears she hadn’t realized she was shedding. “Don’t cry, none of this is your fault.”

“I should have known better after what happened with Dumbledore, and now I put our son in danger.” Lily whispered brokenly.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sirius spoke up and they both turned to him. “Moony told me Dumbledore hadn’t been able to gather much useful intel on Harry other than his vague location. He doesn’t know our boy is the crime boss of London with powerful connections, so the old man and his few surviving chickens will be in for a big surprise.”

James’ hazel eyes shone proudly, “Harry’s our son, and he hasn’t been a weak defenseless child for years. Have trust in him, darling.”

Lily nodded and leaned into her husband’s warm embrace, “Contact Harry, we still need to warn him.”

“Of course.” Both James and Sirius replied.


	17. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a lovely song with the same name by Brandon & Leah.
> 
> Warning: Mentioned of past child sexual abuse.

_Later the same day_

_London, Britain_

 

Harry watched Tom working on his school assignments in preparation for the final exams that would come up soon as it was near the end of Spring term at Hogwarts. He admired the boy for his dedication, because Tom was not only a prodigy, he was also a diligent student. With books scattered half-open around and piled up high before him, he reminded Harry too much of Hermione Granger. The brown-haired girl was always so serious back in her schooldays, and then later in her career pursuing. She was ambitious and headstrong, the complete opposite of Ron’s carefree and tactless personality. Harry still marveled at the fact that they could stand each other long enough to eventually get married. He had been the witness of their rocky start, then a reluctant mediator of the couple for years.

And Tom was so much like Hermione, but then he was also very different. They both possessed brilliant minds, but while ‘Mione was a fierce lioness, Tom was the deadliest viper. And a beautiful one at that. It made him tenfold dangerous. Harry couldn’t help but feel lucky that this tempting cold-blooded creature had deemed him worthy enough to be intimate with. Especially after what Tom had gone through at the orphanage, and later under his awful relatives’ hands.

Harry had asked Ron to investigate Wool’s orphanage where Tom had been raised. And as expected, they had discovered a huge illegal organization offering numerous wealthy paedophiles a place to sexually abuse many helpless minors for years. Ron had immediately sent a tip-off to the police, and Harry’s hidden men in the law enforcement had made sure justice would be served to every disgusting animal involved, no matter how influential or powerful a lot of the perpetrators were.

Those perverts had destroyed so many innocents’ lives, and Harry couldn’t help but feel kind of grateful that Tom’s uncle had found the boy. He had seen the old photos of Tom back when he was a small angelic child, and was forced to be a plaything for those repulsive adults. They made him nauseous. He had ordered his men to destroy every single photo of Tom and the other poor orphans that were taken against their wills, but it was still dreadful to think of how much further his boy could have been taken advantage of had he remained at the orphanage. Those men could do anything as long as they refrained from causing fatal injuries to the kids. Tom was the youngest child who had been targeted because of his standout beauty, but it was also because of his age that those animals hadn’t gone all the way with him. The boy had been so small sexual intercourse could have killed him, but Harry knew Tom had to see what happened to the older kids, and understood that staying at the orphanage for even one or two more years and that would be his fate. That was why even though it was just switching to a different kind of abuse, he still stayed with his hateful relatives for years.

The world rarely treated Tom kindly, and his boy grew so used to it that he didn’t know how to handle it when Harry doted on him with too much affection. But he knew Tom didn’t truly hate it, and he was determined to melt the boy’s icy walls with all the tenderness in him.

“I can’t believe Tommy boy can work on his homework under your impossible gawking,” Ron muttered from across the table with mouth still munching on his late-night snacks.

“Don’t call me that,” Tom hissed, looking up from the thick tome he had been engrossed in for half an hour, then threw an openly disgusted glare at the red head, “and don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Harry didn’t know how Tom managed it, not even Hermione could train some basic table manners into her husband, but Ron dutifully chewed and swallowed before he opened his mouth again.

“I’m just saying, how can you concentrate with my overbearing boss acting so silly around you?”

“Shut up.” Harry snapped as the same time Tom closed the book after marking the page he had been reading.

The boy rubbed his eyes, “I have practice. After you had tried squeezing a few minutes break to study in the backroom of an overcrowded bar, your focus can take anything.”

Ron made an impressed noise in his throat while Tom closed his eyes, looking exhausted.

“Are you done for tonight?” Harry asked gently.

Dark maroon eyes blinked a few times before their owner answered, “No. I need to finish this book then write an essay on it.”

“When’s the deadline?” Ron asked, curious.

“Next Friday.”

“What?” Ron spluttered. “But it’s only Monday.”

“He’s worse than Hermione, I know.” Harry said to Ron’s incredulous face before turning back to Tom. “Darling, you’ve been staying up overnight buried in those books for a whole weekend, how about you finish this book tonight and leave the essay for tomorrow?”

It was a special consideration Harry seemed to reserve only for him. The man never used an ordering tone with Tom as though he was below him or just a dumb ignorant child. Harry regarded Tom as a young intelligent adult, which was nice and very sweet. So Tom usually gave his gentle suggestions similar respect. His dark eyes observed the man sitting close to him on the same couch; Harry didn’t look tired even though he had been staying up with Tom every day until he went to bed, refusing to turn in without him.

“Alright.” Tom sighed and opened the unfinished book again. Harry smiled, contentedly watching the boy continue his reading and scribe on his notebook in neat little cursives.

“You look awfully bored, boss. Wanna hear some late reports?”

“If it isn’t anything urgent, leave it for tomorrow. And I don’t have any plans for tonight, you’ve already known that.” The part _why are you still here_ went unsaid but it rang loud and clear in Harry’s irritated tone.

“‘Mione’ll be working overtime tonight, so let’s go over those reports and I can sleep in tomorrow.” Ron grinned, totally unfazed by his boss’ glare. “There’re only two items; the first comes from Nott.”

“Théodore?” Harry asked.

“Yes. He sent words to inform us of a suspicious movement in the gunrunning on the East side a few days ago, and asked if we know anything.”

“Do we?”

“Nope.”

Harry hummed, his fingers absently playing with one of Tom’s soft dark locks. “Got any similar reports from our drug dealers?”

“No, everything’s running smoothly as usual.”

Harry nodded, “Then tell Théodore we aren’t involved, and kindly request him to notify us if this new movement still continues after two weeks.”

“I understand. The second one’s from Crouch; according to him someone has been trying to find you through the police database,” Ron said in a serious tone.

“Me?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, they racked up the system for any details about _Harry Potter_ , especially.”

“Did our men manage to find out their motives?”

“Not yet, at least not for the moment. They have a few moles in the force and seem to personally know Crouch’s father, so our guy has been cautious.”

“Understandable.”

Harry became quiet, deep in thoughts for several minutes, but when he was about to say something, he was interrupted by his phone’s sudden ringtones. Harry took one look at the screen and blood drained from his face. Tom swiftly looked up as though he somehow could sense the other man’s distress, and furrowed his brows when he spotted the unknown incoming call.

Harry picked up.

“Harry.” A deep grumble voice greeted him on the other side.

“Padfoot,” Harry said with shaky voice, “What- what’s happened? Who-”

“It’s a long story,” Sirius quickly cut in. “But before I start on it, no one has died. Your mom and dad are sitting right beside me, Moony got hurt but he’s alright now. We’re fine, all of us, no need to panic, okay?”

“Thank god.” Harry heaved a sigh of relief before he said, “Tell me what’s happened.”


	18. Feel About You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a song with the same name by Aislin Evans.

_Dumbledore had come to Britain._

That was what Harry had said after the unexpected phone call two weeks ago. The Potters’ greatest enemy had come for the boy he almost killed twice; one when Harry was still an unborn baby in his mother’s womb, and again when he was an eleven-year-old child. But that had been years ago, Dumbledore wasn’t as formidable as he had once been, and Harry wasn’t the same weak defenseless boy.

This time, the tables had turned.

Dumbledore had lost the war in France and his force was nearly destroyed before the old man got a hold on where James Potter’s son had been hiding, and escaped to Britain in the hope of capturing his enemy’s sole weakness. But James’ only heir Harry was; a weakness he surely was not.

After receiving the news from his godfather, Harry immediately tightened his control over London and nearby territories, and within the week had discovered the old man’s traces. Dumbledore with his scattered Order members was nothing against the powerful crime boss; and they would be crushed. _Soon_.

Or that was what Tom had heard.

Harry was very busy lately, enough that Tom started to realize how much attention the other man had used to lavish on him. Tom wasn’t sure how busy being a mob boss was, but before Dumbledore, whenever Tom came back from school Harry would either already be there or he would be within an hour.

Recently, it was hard to see the other man, Harry only came back when the night was nearly over. There were days when he didn’t return at all. Even when Hogwarts was closed for the winter holiday and Tom stayed inside the manor for most of the time, he still didn’t get to see the older man much, except for a few fleeting kisses and quick hugs Harry hastily smothered on him in between the short moments the man was home.

The point was, it shouldn’t matter to Tom how little of Harry’s time he got these days. He wasn’t a child who needed someone to babysit him every seconds of the day. He was an independent grownup, capable of taking good care of himself. But the damn truth was, he really missed the green eyed man.

It unsettled Tom how much he missed Harry. But it was long past the time he would vehemently deny having feelings for anyone. Harry was not anyone, he was _his_. Tom reveled in having a man as powerful as the London crime boss completely wrapped around his fingers, and it irked him how much of Harry’s attention an old man was taking from him.

It was another long day and after having dinner alone, _again_ , Tom took out a new book from the huge library, intending to read a bit before bed. He had just settled on the couch when Harry suddenly walked in, dropping his coat and scarf on Oliver before jumping on the couch and slinging his arms around him. Tom struggled to not drop the book in his hands and managed to put it down on the small table nearby, before he turned to the insufferable man clinging on him like a damn barnacle.

“You’re cold.” He complained.

In the corner of his eyes, Tom saw Ron put two handfuls of bags and boxes down by the threshold before the redhead quietly left with Oliver.

“And you’re so warm,” Harry purred in reply.

“I’m not your personal heater,” Tom said, exasperated, but still didn’t push the other man away. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet. I come home as soon as we were done with the wipe out at Theodore’s base. Can’t let today pass without seeing you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s Christmas, darling. Our first Christmas together. Did you forget the date?” Harry asked, looking at the boy fondly.

Tom had not. It was just he had never celebrated any holiday, and especially not a date meant to be shared with family or loved ones. Back at the orphanage, Christmas was a nightmare, enduring being stared at and touched by repulsive hands. Then any holiday with the Gaunts equaled more chances of Morfin coming back wasted and beating him up; but Tom disliked Christmas and New Year’s Eve the most, because on those days all the stores were closed and the cold weather prevented him from staying out late to escape his wretched uncle.

“I do not. I just didn’t expect you would want to celebrate it.” Tom replied.

“Why not? I even cleared up my schedule tomorrow to spend the whole day with you. I miss you so much.” Harry said, squeezing the boy in his arms.

“You saw me yesterday.”

“Just for a few minutes, it’s not enough. I’m always in a rush lately, damn that cunning old man.” Harry cursed and then he looked at Tom, green eyes shining bright, “I bought you some gifts, do you want to open them now?”

That made Tom take another look at the piled up bags and boxes Harry’s redhead had left behind, and realizing all of them were his Christmas presents. He didn’t quite know how to react, no one had given him presents before. No one had ever cared about him before, period.

“I’ll open them tomorrow.” Tom said, “You should eat something first, aren’t you hungry?”

Harry winced, “I’m starving.”

They went into the dining room and Tom quietly watched the older man warm up the leftover food in the oven. He waited until Harry had finished his meal before saying, “I didn’t buy you anything.”

Harry only smiled, “It’s okay. You don’t have to--”

“But I want to give you something,” Tom continued as if he didn’t hear the other man, “How’s about you take _me_ as your Christmas present?”

Harry’s whole body went rigid in the middle of putting his dirty plates away. After a long beat of silence, he let out a shaky breath and continued to put the dishes in his hands into the sink, before turning around to stare at Tom.

“What did you just say?” Harry asked in a tight voice.

Tom graciously clarified for him, “I want to have sex with you.”

“Jesus,” Harry muttered, “Tom, you’re only fifteen!”

Tom slowly stalked to where the older man was standing; he was as tall as him now so it wasn’t hard to press Harry against the countertop behind his back.

“Only for a few more days,” Tom said, dark red eyes meeting emerald orbs with determination. “You’re so awfully honorable, sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re a crime boss, Harry.”

The man gave a dry laugh before his face turned solemn, he shook his head. “I’m really not a good person, darling. But I want to do things right with you. After everything you had gone through, I don’t ever want to make you feel used again.”

He leaned in to kiss Tom gently, as though he was something special. _Precious._ Tom’s heart fluttered and he want want _want_...

“I feel right,” Tom said decisively, stubbornly. “With you, I feel right. We can wait until my birthday passes. But I don’t want to wait, I want you _now_. Do you not want me?”

“You know I want you, so much it’s hard to keep myself in check around you.” Deep green eyes darkened as Harry looked at the beautiful boy in his arms. God, he really wasn’t a good man, how could he resist such sweet temptation?

“Are you sure? Really, _really_ sure that is what you want?” He asked, allowing Tom one more chance to reconsider, but the boy didn’t even hesitate.

“I told you, I’m always sure about what I want. And I want you, tonight and every night after it.”

The boy’s voice was smooth as sin, and Harry’s strained control finally broke. He surged forward to capture Tom’s lips in a devouring kiss, a low hungry growl escaped his throat when the boy kissed back just as fiercely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, I got stuck in real life and addicted to a new fandom :*))))
> 
> Next chapter will be smut ;">


	19. Lips on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title's taken from a lovely song with the same name by Maroon 5.

They ended up in Harry’s room.

It was the first time Tom had come inside the older man’s bedroom. But he didn’t have time to take in his surroundings before he was pushed down on the huge soft bed. The mattress was just as soft and comfortable as the one in Tom’s own room. And then Harry was kissing him again, deeply and insistently but without the desperation from before, Tom kissed back and for a while that was all they did, tasting and feeling the dazzling heat from each other.

Soft moonlight pooled into the room and spilled across the white sheet surrounding them.

Then Harry’s hands wandered under Tom’s shirt and started to tug the hem upward. Tom broke the kiss to help Harry pull off his shirt before he started in on the man’s buttons, but then Harry’s hands were there and they were both stumbling to undo the same button and it was a mess.

“Slow down,” Harry said breathlessly, green eyes sparkling, “we need to slow down. I can get my own shirt off, unless you would rather?”

Tom would rather. Harry’s intense gaze settled on the boy’s beautiful face as he undid the buttons one by one, methodically, appreciating the way the fabric falls softly aside to reveal bare inviting skin. Harry pulled his arms out of the sleeves and dropped the shirt aside with Tom’s.

And they were both shirtless.

Moonlight fell onto their bodies, shifting pleasantly with each breath they took as they stared at each other hungrily. Tom pressed his hands to Harry’s toned chest, felt the warmth of his soft skin, the rhythm of his breathing, the heartbeats against his chest. Harry’s heart rate was just as fast as Tom’s. The anticipation was tight between them and then they were kissing again. Harry’s mouth was soft and eager on Tom’s lips.

When the man begun rolling his hips, pressing into Tom’s crotch and moaning hotly into his ears, their skin prickled with heat, Tom reached for the front of Harry’s pants and hastily undid the zipper. Harry did the same but his deft fingers were much more skillful than Tom’s. They both got off their pants and underwear and stared at the other’s throbbing hard cock.

“Your past lovers must love you,” Tom commented blandly after a beat of heated silence. Harry laughed delightedly.

“You’re really well-endowed for a boy.” The older man purred, “And your cock’s still growing, darling.”

Tom’s dark eyes flashed dangerously and in a swift and surprising strong move had switched their places, pinning Harry down on the bed with him securely sitting on top. Tom drank in the sight of the green eyed man beneath him — his wet lips, his handsome face, and his tousled hair.

“I want to be inside you.” He said slowly, dark red orbs gleaming.

Harry’s eyes widened minutely, but then he smiled, “Anything you want, darling.”

Tom’s hands held the man’s head gently, long fingers spread out, keeping Harry anchored in place so he could lay soft kisses on his fluttering eyelids, his blushing hot cheeks, his strong jaw. Harry’s heart was hammering like crazy and Tom could feel every heartbeat with how tightly they were pressed together.

“Mine,” Tom whispered; maroon eyes shone so brightly they almost turned crimson.

“Yours,” agreed Harry. Then he reached over to the bedside table and took out a bottle of lube and a condom, but Tom stopped him before he could tear open the wrapper.

“I’m a virgin,” Tom said, “Are you clean?”

It took a moment for Harry to understand what Tom might be suggesting and the air whooshed out of his lungs, “I am.” He answered, breathlessly. “I tested a few days before I met you, and I haven’t had sex with anyone ever since.”

“Then we don’t need the condom,” Tom gave the man a predatory smile, “I want to feel you.”

“Okay,” he said faintly, dropping the condom in his hand. “I need to open myself first, it’s been a while since the last time I had something inside…”

Harry stopped short when Tom took the bottle in his hand and begun coating a generous amount of lube on his own fingers.

“Allow me,” Tom said. The sight of the boy’s long elegant fingers dripping in lube was so arousing Harry had trouble breathing.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he rasped.

“Some from what I witnessed at the orphanage, and the rest in porn.” Tom admitted reluctantly, abashed. His pretty cheeks blushed red.

“Fuck,” Harry crused under his breath, torn between feeling horrified at all the terrible things Tom had gone through in his childhood, and aroused at the thought of the boy watching porn and getting off in his free time.

“It’s okay.” Tom murmured, spreading Harry’s legs apart to settle himself in between, “What happened to me is in the past. I’m safe now.”

The older man’s thighs felt strong and heavy in Tom’s hands as he spread his legs wider, his cock just inches from Tom’s own. Harry gave him a small smile, with the same breathless anticipation that was coiling in his belly. He ran his fingers down the insides of those smooth thighs, stroking the tender skin before coming back to Harry’s knees. Maroon eyes stared hungrily at the pale skin, Harry’s hard cock, his tense sack, and the rosy, puckered hole that called for him to own. Tom pushed the man’s legs further apart before leaning in and pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses from Harry’s knee to the inside of his left thigh. The man’s breaths hitched as he trembled slightly from his ministration.

Tom hooked Harry’s right leg under one arm, drawing it out of the way, using his left hand to keep the other from impeding his actions, and prodded a dripping finger against Harry’s asshole before carefully shoving it in. Harry gasped and tensed up, then quickly forced his muscles to relax, giving Tom easier access. He cautiously inserted a second finger in after a moment, thrusting them slowly, trying to loosen the hole he ached to plow into. Harry’s hungry hole squeezed against Tom’s fingers in a sign to hurry him up, and he scissored his fingers before adding the third, stretching Harry as far as he could and watching the older man’s for any signs of discomfort.

“It’s enough,” Harry gasped out brokenly. “I’m ready. Give me your cock, darling.”

Tom withdrew his hand and entwined his fingers into Harry’s hair, kissing him as hard as he could. The kiss soon turned harsher, but Harry loved every bit of the sloppy wet and bruising goodness.

Tom moved his hands from Harry’s messy hair and braced himself against the pillow, carefully placed his aching cock at the entrance of Harry’s stretched asshole and slowly pushed in. Harry moaned into the kiss, small wanton sounds escaping his throat making Tom’s entire body tighten with arousal. He took a deep breath to control himself when he finally put his entire length inside, the dizzying heat gripping him so tight Tom felt like he was being burned up inside out.

“You’re so big, darling.” Harry groaned breathlessly, lavishing Tom in adoring kisses. “Move, please.” He ordered impatiently, jerking his hips, squeezing the throbbing length inside of him.

Tom drew in a ragged breath and began to move. He moved slowly, tortuously slowly, making Harry feel every bit of the thick organ. Harry wrapped his arms around his beautiful boy, pulling him in closer as they moved sensuously.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” Tom whispered lowly against Harry’s ear, joining their lips once more. The man felt heavenly, gripping him so tight and perfect.

Tom angled every thrust differently until he hit the bundle of nerves inside Harry and the man gasped.

“There,” Harry’s face twisted in ecstasy, tears clinging to his lashes. His legs wrapped around Tom’s waist pulling him even closer. “Harder, darling.”

Tom gripped the older man’s hips and began to pick up his pace. He threaded one hand into Harry’s messy hair again and pulled him in for another forceful kiss, eliciting sinful moans from the green eyed man, and he devoured the sounds like a man possessed with a need to take everything Harry had to offer. Tom kissed the man hungrily, his lips dry and thirsty for more.

“Mine,” Tom growled, savoring the feel of Harry’s hot wall clamped tight around his cock as he continued to drive into the welcoming heat. When Tom felt himself getting close, one of his hands reached between their bodies, taking the neglected cock of the man beneath him and squeezing before he began to stroke the length up and down.

“More, more, please Tom, _more_!” Harry cried, his pleasure mounting, ready to peak.

“Come for me,” Tom breathed, maroon eyes overcome with lust, his thumb sweeping over the head of Harry’s cock.

Harry came with a choked moan, his seed spurting onto his stomach, his entire body wracked with bliss. Tom pounded into Harry a few more times and was tipped over the edge when the muscles around his cock spasmed and clenched hard. He barely caught himself before he collapsed onto Harry after his climax, breathing deep and trying to steady himself.

“You should see your face,” Harry’s voice was raw, his fingertips stroking Tom’s cheeks lovingly. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

With one graceful move, Harry switched their places again, surprisingly strong but still gentle, while Tom was still stuck in the afterglow of his orgasm, before leaning down to capture Tom’s lips again. Their kiss was slower this time, languid and sloppy.

Tom were still panting, coming down from his highs, when Harry pulled away. He almost whined when the man’s scalding heat left him. Tom watched Harry walk into the bedroom, cum dribbling out of his ass, then he listened to the water running while trying to regain his breath.

Harry came back out with a damp cloth. He climbed on the bed and gently wiped down some of the cum had splattered on Tom’s chest. Watching the attentive expression on Harry’s handsome face as he focused on cleaning him up made something hot and dangerous suddenly tighten in Tom’s chest.

When Harry was done, he dropped the dirty washcloth on the floor and lay down again, wrapping his arms around Tom’s middle and tugging him close. The man put their foreheads together and leaned in for another kiss, pecking once, twice, then a third time, longer and deeper, humming contently against his lips.

When they parted, Harry nuzzled his face against the boy’s pale collarbone and said contently, “I love you.”

Tom froze.

It took Harry a moment to notice Tom’s unusual reaction. He pulled back a little to get a better look at his face. “Tom?”

The boy blinked.

“Sorry, I--” he stammered, body stiffened in his arms. Harry bit back a smile as he watched Tom’s adorable reaction; it was rare to see him flustered and struggling with words. His boy was always calm and whip-smart, but talking about feelings was his sole weak spot.

“It’s fine,” Harry pressed a quick kiss to the boy’s lips and stopped his unnecessary apology, “I just want you to know how I feel, you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same.”

“It’s not…” Tom started like he wanted to argue, but in the end he only breathed out, “Thank you.”

Harry smiled indulgently and pecked at Tom’s check once more before closing his eyes, still hugging the boy tight. Their naked skins pressed to each other warmly.

“Love you,” Harry mumbled one last time through the veil of fatigue finally hitting him, eyes already falling shut.

The man fell asleep within minutes while Tom couldn’t rest his mind, not after that startling declaration. He stayed awake for hours, admiring Harry’s handsome features, his long eyelashes, his straight nose, his defined cheekbones, and his kiss-swollen mouth. He wormed out of Harry’s hold to wrap his arms around the man instead, their legs tangled together. The warm, faintly metallic scent, that was purely _Harry_ filled up his lungs, making him heady.

Tom hadn’t known love for the entirety of his relatively short life before Harry, and he used to believe he wouldn’t. Not that he ever wanted to learn about love anyway. But Harry had already defied many of his rules, and Tom knew love would be no exception. Not with this man.

If there ever was anyone who could made Tom Riddle learn to love, it would be Harry Potter.

_Or maybe I’m already in love with him_ , Tom thought as his fingertips gently smoothed away the tired marks lingering on Harry’s sleeping face.

But knowing he was in love and being willing to admit it aloud were two very different things. And Tom didn’t think he was quite ready to give Harry the ultimate power over his heart.

Love was a terrible drug, a corrupting and explosive chemical of the brain; it was the sole terrifying force that only humans possessed yet had no control over. And even though Tom used to despise love, he wanted to try being _human_ for Harry.

He just didn’t know when, _if ever_ , he could find it in him to say those special words back.

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I forget any important tags, please help to point out so I can add them in warning tags.


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